Blue to Black
by Jean815
Summary: Have you ever wondered what would happen to Alagaesia if Eragon were bad instead of good? Well, wonder no more...
1. Chapter 1

"_Risa!" barked Eragon. The young rabbit rose from the ground, shaking in terror. Eragon grinned in pleasure. Who knew that it was so easy to find and kill prey? "Jierda." Eragon was still smiling sadistically. A loud crack rent the silence of the night. _

_That__'__s the fifth rabbit you__'__ve killed, Eragon. You know you can__'__t eat them all; you have more than enough. Just hurry back already. _Saphira sounded impatient. _Fine.... I__'__ll be back soon. Don__'__t worry about me, I can take care of myself._ Eragon assured her.

Eragon picked up the rabbits and slung them over his back. The limp weight hardly seemed to bother him. He started walking stealthily back to the clearing where he and Saphira had made camp.

Once more he pondered how he had gotten so powerful. The memory made him smile. But….

He still shivered at the memory of killing Brom; he had not really meant to do it. It was just that he had always respected Morzan and hearing Brom insult the great man and seeing the blade that once belonged to Morzan in Brom's filthy hands…. He stole it! In that instant, Eragon had exploded internally. Stolen! His father's one true possession had been wrongfully stolen and Brom hadn't seemed sorry about it. He seemed surprised that Eragon knew about Zar'roc but he had handed it over to Eragon willingly enough.

Eragon had held it in his hands; he had felt the power that emanated from the sword but he knew that only he and his kin could feel it. He had risen from the ground and held the sword up. He slashed it experimentally and Brom had risen in fear; coward that he was. Eragon sneered in disgust. The piece of shit had only dared take the sword away from his father's dead body. The thought had made intense anger course through his body and released something inside him.

His eyes burned, his gedwey ignasia glowed. Brom took a step back. "Letta!" The word had burst unexpectedly from his lips. Brom halted, terror obvious in his eyes. The fear had confirmed all of Eragon's suspicions. His suspicions of Brom as a weak, cowardly old crotchety fool who blabbered nonsense and thought that just because he was once a strong Rider he could stand up to just about anybody. He had never trusted Brom. Now Brom had betrayed his trust and he would pay for it.

"Brisingr!" Eragon had screamed. Brom screamed as well, but in pain. A blue flame burst from his heart and started to spread across his entire body. Then, when his entire body was consumed by the flames, he went limp. The fire flared up, brighter than ever. Eragon had watched with wide curious eyes. He had not felt in the least bit tired.

Then the fire focused again onto the gedwey ignasia on Brom's right palm. The ball of blue flame exploded towards Eragon. He didn't even have time to blink when the fire entered his body. It did not hurt as much as it seemed to hurt for Brom. Eragon simply felt an extreme tingling along his entire body; there was no pain. But he couldn't move at all. Saphira has stared at him with wide worried eyes but he could not even focus his thoughts to reassure her.

It was in this manner that he seemed to float around, his unseeing eyes that saw everything yet nothing. He saw Saphira looming over him, he saw the Universe. After a while, he could see nothing, everything turned dark. He seemed to see this darkness that was so calming for years .Then he saw a blue light. It was the only thing that had light in this neverending darkness. Eragon was automatically drawn towards the light. He could not possibly have resisted.

It hurt. A lot. For a long time. He felt his limbs becoming elongated and stretch by themselves. He could feel his ears being pulled apart and his brain felt like it was on fire. At that moment, Eragon wished he were dead. A moment later the pain was gone. Eragon opened his eyes.

_Eragon!! Are you alright?_ Saphira's voice rang out worriedly in his mind. Eragon winced. He felt like he had drunk an entire barrel of strong red wine. Massive hangover. _I don__'__t know.... I feel okay...._ Eragon looked over his body. He gasped.

_What__…__what happened to me??_ Eragon was completely shocked.

He was lying on the dirty ground, his tunic was soaked in sweat and mud. He stank.

But he felt better than he had ever felt before.

He marveled at his long smooth fingers, they look delicate and strong at the same time; unfamiliar. He felt stronger than he ever had before. Eragon sucked in the air greedily, tasting scents that before were far too weak for the average human to taste. He knew then, that by killing Brom, he had completed the transition from a tree-hugger to a powerful Rider. He was what he was meant to be, not what the old Rider had wanted to be.

These thoughts took only a short second; it was good that the transformation had improved his brainpower as well. Eragon gently lifted himself onto his feet and swayed, nearly falling over. Apparently, the transformation had caused him a growth spurt as well, making him well over six feet now.

Eragon spun around to face Saphira. Again, shock rendered him speechless.

Saphira had trebled in size, but that was not what was the most shocking.

Saphira's scales, once a shining sapphire colour, was now several shades darker. They burned themselves into one's eyes, causing one to forget what one was doing at the time.

_Eragon. What have you done?_ Saphira growled at him.

_What__'__s the matter, Saphira? I feel great and you__'__ve obviously changed much, but it seems to be for the better. _Eragon was surprised at the hostility she showed him.

_For the better? For the better?! Eragon! I feel an overwhelming urge to kill, to fight! I want to rampage around villages and kill everything in my sight, and you think this is for the better?? _Saphira ranted.

_Well. _Eragon paused. _I__'__m sorry, I didn__'__t realise you felt that way. I think you should probably go and hunt. Perhaps hunger is making you feel that way. When was the last time you hunted anyway?_

_The last time I hunted was before you became unconscious. 3 days ago. _Smoke billowed out of Saphira's nostrils.

_Well, I suppose you had better go and hunt now before you lose control of yourself and decide that I taste better than deer._

Saphira growled slightly before spreading her wings, which had also increased much in size. Her muscles strained and she flapped her wings. She lifted off the ground slightly, then suddenly she was high in the sky.

Eragon felt extreme joy in his head. He smiled. Obviously, Saphira had missed flying when she was taking care of him.

3 days… Eragon's stomach growled. Perhaps it was time for him to hunt, as well as to examine the rest of the changes that had happened to him.

He followed the sounds of water that he could hear and soon came to a stream. He quickly slipped out of his disgustingly dirty clothes and looked at his reflection in the clear water.

Once again, he was speechless.

Every single wound he had ever received was healed. There was not a single scar on him. What's more, he had a broader chest, and a helluva lot more muscles. But the most obvious changes had had to be his face. His eyes had become the same colour as Saphira's scales, and his ears had sharpened into points. Together with his raised cheekbones, he had the look of a prince.

He stretched upwards. The reflection stretched with him. Eragon grinned widely before diving into the stream, letting the cold water wash away 3 days worth of pain and dirt.

When he was thoroughly refreshed, he pulled himself onto the river bank. With his heightened senses, the smell of his still dirty clothes hit him hard. He could see every little bit of dirt on his tunic and breeches; it was rather gross.

Eragon wondered whether his new powers included magic to make his clothes clean. He eagerly delved into his mind.

Soon, he found a hard anomaly that had never been there before. Without hesitation, he broke through the barrier that had blocked it from his mind. Eragon screamed in pain.

A century of Brom's memories washed over him, and not very gently. Everything Brom had ever felt was now Eragon's to feel. Pain, pleasure, happiness, sadness. It all came out in a rush, making him fall to his knees and clutch his head between his hands. So much suffering, he could not endure it.

Grimly, he created a sphere in his mind, forcing the unwanted memories into it. They were unwilling but after a lot more pain, Brom's memories were once again under lock and key, so to speak.

Eragon approached the Brom in his mind, but with more care this time. He looked for the ancient language, the words Brom had known. There were a lot.

Eragon pushed a tendril of thought towards the words, pulling them towards him. Each word was immediately understood.

Eragon looked through the words, searching for the ones he wanted. He selected the words for 'wash' and the word for 'clothes'. Doubtfully, he reached into his well of magic, of which there was a large increase, to use the words.

He concentrated on the magic but before he could say the words, steam billowed around his clothes. When the steam dissipated into the air, his clothes were clean and fresh, neatly folded into a pile in front of him. Eragon smiled to himself again before pulling his clothes on.

Apparently, he could now do magic without speaking the words. Excellent.

That had been a week ago. Eragon realised that although he could do magic without saying the words, it was still more fun to say it. And much less draining as well.

Saphira had grown more, but she could now control her urges better.

Eragon stepped into the clearing and placed the dead rabbits on the ground. "Brisingr." A small fire appeared in the middle of a circle of rocks in the clearing.

_Eragon. We must decide what we should do now that we have these powers. _Saphira chided him. _We cannot spend the rest of our days in this clearing; I am getting sick of it._

_I agree. But surely this can wait until after I have eaten, Saphira? _Eragon pleaded. He was very hungry.

Saphira sighed, causing smoke to billow around the clearing. _Very well, but please be quick. I have a bad feeling about this clearing. _

_Perhaps it__'__s the memories. After all, we- _I _did kill Brom here. _Eragon suggested.

_No… I don__'__t think so. Just hurry please, Eragon. _Saphira sounded worried.

_Okay, okay… _Eragon started cleaning the rabbits. After putting them on a spit and placing them above the fire, he leaned back against a fallen tree trunk and relaxed against it.

_So, while we wait for your meal to cook, can we please start talking about what we are going to do? _Saphira sounded rather annoyed.

_Hey, it__'__s not my fault I can__'__t eat raw meat. _Eragon shrugged. Saphira growled. _Oh very well. Proceed._

_Well, obviously we are no longer wholly good. We have developed dark sides; or rather, they were there before, hiding in a corner and now they__'__ve come out. _Saphira rolled off, unhesitatingly. It was apparent that she had thought about this for a long time. It was unfortunate that just then the rabbits began to give off a heavenly smell of roasted rabbit.

Eragon was immediately distracted from Saphira. He made a flicking motion at the rabbits and they floated towards him. He was about to take a bite when he noticed Saphira glaring at him from the other side of the clearing.

_What?? I do still need to eat you know, even though I don__'__t look all that much like a human... _Eragon snarled. _Just say what you have to say. I can listen and eat at the same time._

Saphira sighed again. _Well, our bloodlust has increased tenfold. We have held off by killing animals so far but I think soon we will feel even more the urge to kill. I think we became this way because killing Brom was an act of pure evil. _

Eragon chewed the tender meat thoughtfully. _Do you want one? It tastes great. _Eragon offered. Saphira rolled her eyes and opened her mouth. Eragon threw one of the four remaining rabbits into her wide open mouth. She swallowed it without bothering to chew. Eragon raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

_Anyway, as I was saying, soon we will feel like killing humans. Doubtless, with our new powers, this won__'__t be all that hard to do but though I now have a dark side, I don__'__t feel very happy at the thought of killing innocent people._

_You killed 5 deer. _Eragon wisely pointed out.

_You killed 5 rabbits. _She shot back.

_Ah, but I was hungry and I__'__m going to eat them. _Eragon said smugly.

_So did I, little one. My appetite has improved much since I__'__ve grown so much. _Saphira countered.

_So, _Eragon continued to eat, _I suppose we don__'__t mind killing when there a good reason then?_

_Yes, I suppose so. _Saphira blinked.

_Well, instead of killing mindlessly, we could always just kill the bad guys. That way, we wouldn__'__t be bad either, would we? _Eragon proclaimed proudly.

Saphira snorted in derision. _The bad guys killing the badder guys. How truly original, Eragon. _

_We__'__d be doing everyone a favour, Saphira. We would no longer be bad guys. _Eragon reminded her, moving on to his next rabbit.

_What is your suggestion then? We become… What? A vigilante Rider and his dragon?_ Saphira asked him sarcastically.

Pretending to take no notice of her sarcasm, Eragon smugly said, _Exactly._

Saphira shook her tail, crushing a tall sapling. _Oops._

_Saphira, you really have to stop destroying the forest. We don__'__t need that big a clearing. _Eragon chided.

_Speak for yourself, Eragon. I am much larger than you now, obviously I need a much larger space than this._

_Well… Speaking of larger spaces… Galbatorix certainly has a rather large castle doesn__'__t he? _Eragon said slyly.

Saphira stared at him, her great mouth falling open slightly in astonishment. _You mean… We kill Galbatorix? Now? _

_Why not? He__'__s the worst person I can think of; I doubt there__'__s a better way of cleansing our conscious than this. _Eragon said nonchalantly.

_Are we truly powerful enough? _Saphira sounded uncertain.

_Well, with our new powers, we could easily kill Galbatorix, I think. But the several thousand soldiers might just try and stop us. And powerful as we are, I don__'__t think we could kill several thousand soldiers and still have enough strength to kill Galbatorix and Shruikan. _

_You mean…_Saphira looked fearful and awed at the same time.

_Yes, Saphira. We need to get the help of the people led by the person we murdered. _Saphira said nothing.

_We need the Varden._


	2. Chapter 2

_You're insane. _Saphira sneered at Eragon disdainfully.

_Hmm… _Eragon mused. _That's a distinct possibility but remember, if I were insane, you would be too. We are closely connected, after all. _

Saphira merely snorted and turned her head.

_Look. It's not that crazy an idea, okay? We NEED to kill Galbatorix, The Varden WANT to kill Galbatorix; We HAVE the power to kill Galbatorix, they NEED the power to kill Galbatorix. Bottom line, they NEED us. _Eragon challenged.

_Eragon. We have killed the man who they look up to the most, we have killed the man who STARTED them! We will not be welcomed with open arms, Eragon! Please, think! They would try to kill us! _Saphira pleaded.

_Yes, I know that. But we are strong now. But just aren't strong ENOUGH. If the Varden and the elves join us… Galbatorix _will _not a chance! They may hate us, but they still need us. They may want to kill us, but they need us to kill Galbatorix first. If they attempt to stop us after that, we have more than enough power between the two of us. _Eragon argued.

_Perhaps…. But after Galbatorix is overthrown, the Varden _will_ take control. And they will have much power at their hands, and with this power they might try to kill us. _Saphira was still unconvinced.

_The people won't let them. We may have killed Brom, but though the Varden may know him as a hero, everyone else knows him only as a storyteller. However, everybody knows about Galbatorix. If we manage to kill him, _we _will be the heroes. Even the Varden would not go against the people; after all, they are supposed to be for the people. _Eragon confidently expressed before taking the last rabbit off the spit.

Saphira slowly dipped her great head. She was still doubtful but she could see no other way. She sighed, causing a smell of a bonfire's smoke to waft through the air. Eragon frowned at her. Saphira puffed another gust of smoke at him. Eragon ignored her and continued eating.

Unhappily, Saphira said, _And how do we find the Varden? I doubt they are on the map. _

_Through Brom's memories. I'm sure he has been to the Varden before so we will just look at his memories. _Eragon shrugged, unconcerned.

_Can you control his memories? After all, they _did _overwhelm you the last time you broke through the barrier. _Saphira said worriedly, _What if you can't control them? They will take over your mind and with yours, mine as well! We would be the perfect pawns for Galbatorix! We would be mindless killing beasts, armed with all the knowledge that Galbatorix so very much wants! _

_Oh, calm down, Saphira. I'm not a hatchling you know. _Eragon finished the last of the rabbit and began to lick his fingers clean.

_Are you even thinking this through? There are a dozen different ways we could lose our lives just by going to the Varden! _Saphira snapped. _We might just be shot down when we are far away, or they might have magicians who are just as powerful as us and have even more experience! They might poison your food because they don't trust you, or not guard their blades when they train with you! Did you ever think of _that, _Eragon? And it's highly possible that they don't want us to join them as Brom was held in high esteem among them! And you! _Here Saphira snarled and stuck her angry face right in front of Eragon's shocked face. _You! You just sit there licking your goddamn fingers! I feel ashamed to have a Rider who has no sense of hygiene! What the hell is your problem, Eragon? Do you really have a death wish?? _Saphira was completely out of control. She was whipping her tail around wildly, causing trees all around them to be crushed and making dirt fly around the ever-enlarging clearing.

Eragon had never seen her lose control that badly before except for once, when she had taken him on that wild flight long ago and skinned his inner thighs badly, and of which even the scars no longer remained. For the first time since he had met Saphira, he felt truly afraid of her. He finally felt the fear non-riders felt for dragons.

Eragon was backed up against a tree trunk, trying his best to avoid the flying pieces of wood as well as Saphira's large fangs. _Saphira! _He shouted with his mind, to no avail. Her mind was closed to him in her fury.

"Saphira!" he roared. Saphira turned her large head towards him, eyes unseeing, still growling. Eragon looked into her eyes, searching for the reasons that had made her this way.

He could see anger, and disappointment. He felt that this was most likely directed at him. But as he looked closer he could also see…. Fear? No, impossible. Saphira feared nothing!

But there it was, the fear that was obvious in her eyes.

Eragon had always thought that no matter how bad he feared something, it would be alright, because Saphira would always be the clear-headed one, the one who would not fear anything, the one who would dare to take on anybody. She would reassure him if ever he felt doubt. But now he could see a different side of her. Their roles were now reversed.

"Saphira,' Eragon tenderly held his hand against the side of her head, 'There's nothing to fear. I promise you, we will defeat Galbatorix, and we will not allow the Varden to harm us. I won't allow them to harm you."

Saphira seemed to calm down slightly, then she got agitated again and asked him, _And what if they get _you_, little one? What am I to do then? I could not possibly resist them. I would let myself die rather than you. _Sadness filled her eyes.

Eragon was thunderstruck. The fear he had seen was not fear for herself, it was for him. He had not feared for himself at all…. He had not thought of what might happen to Saphira if anything were to happen to him. He finally realized how selfish he had been. And he finally realized how deep their bond truly was.

"I can take care of myself, Saphira. But thank you for your concern. It is not unwanted nor unwelcome but please, don't worry so much." Eragon smiled gently at her.

Saphira finally calmed down fully. Her tensed muscles relaxed and her head bowed. _I will hold you to that, little one. _

And she folded her wing over him and they slept deeply, reveling in their love for each other.

Eragon dreamt that he was on a ship during a massive storm. The ship rocked badly and he could feel himself vibrating together with the ship. Then he realized that he wasn't dreaming, because the thing that was shaking him was Saphira's vibrations.

He opened his eyes and all he could see was blue.

He gently tapped a finger on Saphira's wing. Eragon heard her yawn widely before lifting her wing up. He rolled out from under her wing and stood up and stretched.

_Good morning, little one. _Saphira hummed deep in her throat.

Eragon smiled. _Good morning. It's nice to see you've gotten over your little temper tantrum. _He joked.

_Har har. Very funny. It's nice to see my concern being mocked. _She replied sarcastically.

_I was joking, Saphira. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go freshen up. _He said arrogantly.

_Yes, you do need to go freshen up. I can never understand how humans can't tell that they stink. Hint. _

Eragon primly ignored her and walked to the stream to 'freshen up'. Saphira chuckled.

Half an hour later, when Eragon returned to camp, he saw Saphira crouched on the ground, straining to hear something.

Instantly on the alert, Eragon drew out his sword and stood next to her.

_What do you hear?_

_I'm not sure, but I think it sounds like armor. Soldiers, maybe? Perhaps they came to investigate the sounds they heard last night while I tore up the clearing. _

_If they are soldiers, I will not hesitate to kill them. They deserve to die. Get ready. _Eragon smiled grimly, holding Zar'roc up in his right hand and calling a ball of blue flame up on his left.

_Wait. It does not seem like soldiers to come investigating alone. _Saphira frowned.

Eragon cast his mind out, searching for the presence. _Saphira! I can't see into this person's mind. It is well shielded. I think it may be a magician._

_If it is too dangerous an enemy, we must fly to save ourselves. _Saphira noted.

_Aye. _Eragon agreed. Saphira raised her wings slowly, preparing herself to take off.

The minutes passed slowly as the mysterious figure slowly approached the clearing.

The sound of the armour stopped at the very edge of the clearing, where the two sides could not see each other.

Eragon and Saphira both tensed up and stared at the shadow that they could just barely make out through the overgrown vegetation.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the figure stepped into the clearing.

"Halt!" thundered Eragon. Then he saw who it was, and he gasped.

It was impossible. No, it was really impossible. It simply couldn't be…

Eragon felt himself getting faint. Saphira was simply dumbfounded.

It just couldn't be…

Brom.

Eragon fell to his knees, feeling the world closing around him, squeezing him tight, to never let him go.

Saphira felt the very same.

Brom merely stood there, staring at them with his dark, all-knowing eyes. He was clothed from his head to his toes in shimmering golden armour. It looked light enough that one would be able to wear it for hours in a battle yet strong enough that it would not easily be pierced.

But Brom did not really look like Brom. His hair was shorter and there was no grey in it. He looked young and strong. Except for his eyes. His eyes betrayed his age even more than the last time Eragon had seen him.

There was a golden sword hanging from a belt full of jewels on his right side. His right hand rested on it casually.

Brom stared right at Eragon before saying. "Eragon Bromsson. You have killed me."

A tumult of emotions ran through Eragon. Above them all was denial. This.... Ghost, beast, man, whatever he was, could not be Brom, could not be his father…. It was impossible! His father was Morzan! This was he had been told, this was the reason he had killed Brom. Revenge! Revenge had been gotten, and now… It seemed that it was not revenge, but cold-blooded murder. No… Impossible.

Eragon shook his head slowly, murmuring softly, 'Who…. What, are you? You aren't Brom… And you can't be father… You can't be.'

Brom's eyes turned hard and he said harshly, 'I wish I wasn't your father. I would be ashamed to say that my son killed me whilst defending my worst enemy.'

Eragon was stunned. 'But you aren't my father! My father was Morzan! And you killed him!'

Brom shook his head, a grimace on his face, 'I cannot believe that you would be proud to have Morzan as a father. I killed him, true, but I am your father. I have watched over you these 16 years, hoping against hope that you would one day become a Rider, like me, and now you have. But what Rider are you? To have killed your own father, to have killed the man who protected you with his life. Filial devotion, my arse!'

Eragon staggered over to Saphira, leaning against her side for support. _Saphira… How could this be? It's impossible!_

_I do not know what's possible or impossible anymore, but I would hear this man out. Perhaps it is not even Brom! Perhaps it is an enemy in disguise, come to weaken you emotionally before killing you… _Saphira felt shaken, things like that did not happen.

_True. _Eragon nodded slowly before turning to face Brom. 'How do I know you really are Brom?'

Brom laughed scornfully. "You foolish child. You know nothing. You have no idea what you have done by killing me. But though you have killed me, and I should hate you for that, I will tell you this. Know me as your father, know that I am truly Brom, for you have my memories. And if you had sorted through them by now, you would have been waiting for me to come here. Obviously I had not taught you enough, and you don't know how to learn yourself. You fool, you disgust me.'

Eragon felt himself staggering, and falling to the ground again. He could not bear the scorn in Brom's voice, the disappointment in his voice. He had not really hated Brom at all, after all.

'You…you are my father?' He asked softly.

Brom's eyes softened slightly at Eragon's apparent acceptance. 'I am. I know you don't really want me to be, for I am merely an ex-Rider, no longer in power, but I am your father, and I hope you can accept that.'

Eragon looked at Brom for a long second, finally seeing him for what he truly was. He bowed his head and said, 'Forgive me. Father.'

Brom raised his eyebrows slightly and said, 'Perhaps you should take a seat, Eragon. I am about to tell you things only the most experienced Riders know.'

Eragon turned to face Saphira, who nodded her head at him once. He went over to an upturned log and sat down heavily.

Brom started pacing around agitatedly. He turned to Eragon and said, 'Look into my memories and search for the time this happened to me. Let yourself live them. You will understand this better. '

Eragon carefully looked around his mind for the memories, and gently took them away from the others before losing control of himself. He delved into the memory and allowed it to wash over him. He was suddenly looking out through the eyes of Brom at the time of the memory.

_He heard Brom's voice call out one of the twelve words of death, but the mouth that the voice had come from was his mouth. He tried to turn his head, but he couldn't. He was now a passenger in Brom's memory, and all he could do was sit back and watch. _

_The man in front of him twitched and fell to the ground, dead. Brom walked over and, using his foot, turned him over to examine him. Brom gasped._

_It was his one of his old mentors, Pularnis. Eragon felt Brom's emotions roll over him. The most prominent emotion was regret and sadness. Pularnis had been a good man. But he had insulted Brom's father most rudely and wrongly, later refusing to apologise, insisting on calling the man a gigolo. Pularnis had been wearing a mask so Brom had not seen who it was. He had challenged the man to a duel, and then he had killed him. _

_Eragon was completely shocked. He quickly tried to shake the memory off but it wouldn't let him. He, as Brom, covered the man's eyes and laid his hands across his chest. Then he sat down and waited for the pain._

After that last emotion, the memory finally left Eragon. He kneeled over and gasped for air. He felt as though he had been underwater a long time, and had not been able to get up for air.

At last, when he had caught his breath, he sat back up and looked at Brom.

'What was that last part? You waited for the pain? Was it the same thing I felt? You killed an innocent man as well?' Eragon's questions fell over each other in their haste to come out.

Brom held up a hand. 'Calm down. Yes, I killed an innocent man. But the man was no more innocent than I was, for I killed him to defend my father, and you killed me to defend the man you thought was your father. The pain was, I think the same pain you felt. The darkness, then the pain. For Rider's are not like ordinary men. When we kill normal men, it is just that, normal. But when a Rider kills another Rider, the living one absorbs the soul of the one who was killed. That is why the Forsworn and Galbatorix are so powerful. It is because they have all the knowledge and skills of all the Riders they killed have. Not only that, Galbatorix has many Eldunari, so he is extremely powerful.'

When Brom paused for breath, Eragon interrupted again, 'So when a Rider kills another Rider with evil intent, they get the soul? So that's how I got your memories?'

'That's right. And that's why you can use magic without saying it out loud, because I could as well. But there are limitations. If I had died hating you, you would have my memories, but once you tried to access them, you would lose control of your soul and you would be dead as well.' Brom stated.

Eragon pondered this for a moment then he said, 'So…. That means even at the moment that I killed you, you didn't hate me?'

Brom slowly nodded. Eragon felt ashamed and humbled. 'But the Forsworn and Galbatorix have no idea how to go to the Varden or the elves because they died hating the ones who killed them. That is the only reason that the Varden and the elves still live.'

A thought suddenly occurred to Eragon then. 'If I have your soul,' he said slowly, 'How can you be here, standing in front of me, talking to me?'

Brom started chuckling unexpectedly. Eragon was taken aback as this usually wasn't the response you got when you asked someone a grim question like that.

When at last the chuckling abated, Brom said, 'You have no idea how special you are, Eragon.' At this, Eragon raised his eyebrows and Saphira, too, chuckled.

'I'm going to tell you things no living Rider knows, Eragon. Even I didn't know when I was alive. I will do my best to explain this to you. I still don't know too much about this, so don't ask any questions until I'm finished, alright?' Brom's bushy eyebrows pulled together at the middle as he looked at Eragon. Eragon nodded his head once seriously.

'When I was-' 'Stop!' Eragon shouted, interrupting Brom. 'What part of don't interrupt don't you understand?' Brom said, frustrated.

'I'm sorry but I only just thought of something really important. I simply can't keep this inside me.' Eragon pleaded. When Brom finally nodded his head in annoyance, Eragon said worriedly, 'I've thought about all this in the last couple of minutes, and I know now that Morzan was never a great man, and I accept that, and the fact that you are my father. But one thing worries me.' Eragon pulled out Zar'roc suddenly. Brom didn't even flinch.

'I can feel the power in this. Only those who are truly kin can feel it. Here, you try.' Eragon handed the sword hilt first to Brom who took it without looking too worried.

Brom held the sword firmly in his right hand. Eragon stared, for he could see pure white energy jumping and shimmering around Brom's hand. 'The thing about this sword. The whole thing about only kin being able to feel the power? I altered the spell. I made it so that those who are as powerful, or more powerful than Morzan would be able to feel it.'

Looking down right into Eragon's eyes, Brom said, 'Eragon. I know for a fact that you are my son. You have to truly accept that, and don't let doubt disillusion you.' When Eragon nodded, Brom handed the sword back to him. 'Now can I continue my story?' Brom said, smiling slightly. 'Aye.' Eragon smiled back a little.

After you killed me, I felt more pain than I had ever felt before, and it seemed to last forever. I felt myself losing my soul bit by bit. Oh, Eragon! It hurt so much…. I felt like my dragon, Saphira, was leaving me once again, but it was even worse, because _everything _was leaving me…. Make sure you take good care of Saphira, Eragon, for there is nothing worse than losing your dragon…' Brom stopped her, his emotions overwhelming him.

Eragon and Saphira held their silence, for they respected the feelings he had. If Saphira died, Eragon would live on, but if Eragon died, so would Saphira. Neither wished for the other to die, but living on would hurt so much more.

Brom heaved a deep sigh before speaking again. 'When the pain finally ended, everything was pure white. I later found out that I was in a place called Maudiso (Mao-di-zo), which is where good Riders go when they pass on. Their dragons go there as well. Maudiso means 'done' in the ancient language. It is called 'done' because Riders are supposed to be 'done' with everything by the time they get there. You aren't really supposed to know all this but TEM said that if I wished, I could tell you this since you're so special.

'I got off my feet and I saw my dear Saphira in front of me. She was in perfect health and she looked like she had been waiting for me to get there. I felt completely out of my league. And just when I hit total bewilderment, someone behind me coughed.'

Eragon and Saphira were hanging on Brom's every word. He spoke the way he did when telling a story, compelling everyone to listen.

'I whirled around and saw TEM. They were 3 very familiar faces who I had studied about when I had just became a Rider. One was the first Rider, and your namesake, Eragon. Another was a famous Rider, who slew a thousand Urgals single-handedly. His name was Magis. Thaddien, who hates the nickname Ted, was the smartest Rider who ever lived, and who solved problems using his intellect. He was so proud of his intelligence that he actually named his dragon 'Intel'. But anyway, together they formed TEM.

'These three were all elves and close friends, and they were also the first three Riders to die. They were some of the earliest Riders ever chosen, and they knew more than any Rider ever did. They even knew about Maudiso before they died for there were actually scrolls about that place. But the three of them decided to burn these scrolls after they found them because they felt that Maudiso should not become common knowledge. If information of Maudiso leaked out, the non-Riders would be outraged for nowhere did it mention what would happen to them after their demise.

'Thaddien's dragon had died before Thaddien. But only a month after that Thaddien was killed as well. When he came to Maudiso, he found his dragon, Intel, waiting to meet him. Intel told Thaddien that he knew everything. How, he wasn't sure, but he was sure that everything there was to know, he knew. He explained to Thaddien about Maudiso, and about what would happen to Riders when they killed another Rider. Intel also told Thaddien about the future, for, as I said, he knew everything. The same thing happened for the next two Riders, Eragon and Magis. After they realised that the fourth Rider did not have such knowledge, they also realised that they had been given the knowledge for a reason. They called themselves TEM, and they created an amazingly complex spell that allowed them to look over Alagaesia. And so they watched, and made sure that the future went on the way it was supposed to.'

Brom stopped here, finally settling down next to Eragon. He stared into the trees, not really seeing anything. Nothing was said for a long time. At last, Eragon couldn't stand it anymore and said, 'What happened next?'

Brom shook himself out of his reverie and said unhappily, 'They foresaw what would happen with Galbatorix, and that the dragons would become extinct. They couldn't do anything, for it was all fated. They were powerful, and they tried hard to come down to destroy Galbatorix, but they too could do nothing. No one and nothing can fight Fate.'

Here Eragon could not stand it. 'If they are so powerful, and mighty, why couldn't they create a spell to change Fate? Millions have died wrongfully because they couldn't do anything! If you could come back, why couldn't they?' Eragon was furious. 'Those three are supposed to be the most powerful Riders of all time, aren't they? Well? They were told everything for a reason! Maybe they were supposed to go back to Alagaesia to change things! Maybe they were told the future so that they could prevent it! They are Riders. How the hell could they have let this happen to all the Riders! The dragons are almost extinct, and they let the Riders lose!'

Brom calmly watched Eragon's rampage, but he looked a little sad. How foolish we are before we know everything, he thought.

When Eragon had finished, Brom said, 'Eragon. Enough. Let me explain.'

Eragon glared at him before sitting back down on the log.

'There were actually two ways that the future could have turned out. If the dead Riders went back down to help, the good Riders would win. But there was a catch. There would be peace forever but they would only become more and more arrogant, at last making themselves rulers of all of Alagaesia. They would become even crueller than Galbatorix, for to them, everything was right. And of course, no one would ever be able to defeat them, for they were together in their cruelty. And those with even the slightest chance of defeating them were on the same side. Thus, they would rule forever. And one day all of Alagaesia would rise up against them. They would win, but at the cost of all their lives.'

Brom sat silently. There wasn't a sound. Saphira sat in silent contemplation. Even Eragon was speechless. After a long time, Brom spoke again. 'So they had no choice. They could only take the other road, _this _road, where a Rider would rise again and finally kill Galbatorix, returning Alagaesia to its earlier peace. They didn't want the innocent people to die, but at the same time they couldn't allow all of Alagaesia to perish. Thus…. This happened. And now, you are the one who has to fulfil that prophecy, Eragon. You are the Rider that will rise up and kill Galbatorix.'

'Okay,' said Eragon, seemingly unperturbed.

Brom raised his bushy eyebrows. 'What? No questions?' he enquired.

'Well,' said Eragon slowly, 'I already know that I need to kill Galbatorix. I know that it's the only way I can redeem myself in the eyes of others, and myself…. I just don't quite know _how _yet.'

Brom slowly nodded his head. Saphira turned her head towards him. _Why did you say we are special, Brom? I suppose _you _know how we're supposed to do it?_ She projected her thoughts out to save them time.

Eragon, too, turned his head towards Brom expectantly.

Brom coughed and sighed. 'When I said you were special, Eragon, I really did mean it. You are special, because you are the first.'

Eragon and Saphira waited but Brom did not elaborate. For once it was Saphira who lost patience first. _The first what, Brom? _She growled. _Stop beating around the bush. We need to know this._

Brom raised a single eyebrow. 'You are the first Rider and dragon alive to have changed the path Fate wrought for you.'

This stunned the two of them. Eragon felt his heart beat faster. 'I thought that's impossible…' he said softly.

Brom laughed roughly. 'It seems that nothing is impossible for you, Eragon. TEM had no idea what to do when you changed Fate by killing me. You were supposed to learn everything you could from me, then from the elves, then fight and defeat Galbatorix. Then the ending that TEM saw would finally come true. But no,' Brom said with a slight shake of his head, 'No. YOU had to go and kill me. You _had _to change Fate.'

Eragon and Saphira went closer to each other. 'So… That peaceful ending for Alagaesia…. Will it never come true?' Eragon asked worriedly.

Brom laughed again, almost hysterically. 'You see, there's the problem, Eragon. TEM can't tell the future anymore. The path that had been laid out, the light that showed them that things were never going to be as bad as they thought, it was gone. It was gone the moment you killed me. The most powerful beings alive, or well, technically dead, have no power anymore. They cannot see if they are supposed to come down and help you, or let you do it yourself. Yes, they could destroy Galbatorix in seconds, but at what cost? The future? That's the problem. They don't know anymore. There is no definite path.'

Again, there was silence in the clearing. Brom allowed his words to sink in before saying, 'Which is why TEM has decided to leave the decision to you. Since you are the one who is supposed to do this, they will let you decide how to do it. That's the reason they sent me back down here. They wanted me to come down to explain everything to you. That has never happened before, Eragon.' Brom said gravely, 'And it shouldn't have. That is why I say you are special. It is because you have done what no Rider has ever done before. You have forced TEM to change their rules, and you have changed Fate itself.'

When neither Eragon nor Saphira said anything after a long time, Brom said, 'So. What are you going to do, Eragon?'

So. Chapter 2. I hope you liked it.

Unfortunately, I own none of Eragon and less time. Hopefully Chapter 3 will get started soon but… So just keep your fingers crossed, aye?

Till then, may you swords stay sharp!


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

_Part One _

_Eragon hesitated before saying slowly, "What I don__'__t understand is why TEM coming down and destroying Galbatorix might cause the destruction of the future."_

"_Because,__'__ Brom said gravely, __'__Mankind needs these kinds of challenges. If they knew that there was an invincible higher power up that would always be there to help them solve their problems, they would never learn anything. Yes, they would be saved from Galbatorix, but at what cost? If ever another enemy like Galbatorix rises, what will they do? The people will have no idea how to solve it and TEM will be forced to save them again. It may not seem like such a big problem now, but in the long run, it could be disastrous."_

_A humorless laugh escaped Eragon. "You guys really __did_ try to think up solutions, huh?' he said bitterly. 'But you can't make up your mind. Now the decision rests with me. If mankind ever falls, I will be blamed. How nice of them to put this on my conscience."

Looking distressed, Brom said, "Eragon, it's not about putting the blame anywhere! It's just that they have really run out of options, and they feel helpless. You haven't been to Maudiso, Eragon, so you don't know, but I'll tell you this, those Riders up there are all just as powerful as me, some more so. You have no idea how it feels to be so helpless. Some of them are all for marching down here to Alagaesia but TEM made them see sense.

'All of them truly want Alagaesia to be safe, but not just for a day, but forever. If this decision goes wrong, they would have caused the destruction of Alagaesia. This is not something they want to do, and it's not really their decision anyway, seeing as how they are all dead. That is why the decision lies with you, Eragon, the last Rider. Whatever happens, at least the decision was not made by people who are supposed to be dead and silent." Brom stared deeply into Eragon's eyes. "Whatever happens from now, Eragon, know that I am proud to claim you as my son."

Eragon was silent. _What are you thinking, Eragon? _Saphira asked him with her mind.

_I__'__m thinking this fucking sucks. _Eragon replied bitterly.

If she was surprised at his foul language, Saphira didn't show it. _Young one, you must come to a decision. We must act fast, whatever decision you make. It is not even my decision, because I am a dragon. I am an animal. It doesn__'__t matter what you think, Eragon, but the bare truth is that the decision lies with you and with you alone. _

_I know that, Saphira! _Eragon snapped. _I know that we need to act fast; I know that we need to make a decision! This will affect all of Alagaesia! Why the hell do you think I__'__m so bloody stressed?!_

_Eragon. _Saphira said calmly, _There is no need to get pissed off at me. I__'__m merely stating the facts. _

_More like stating the obvious. _Eragon cut in grumbling.

Snarling, Saphira finally turned her head to face Eragon. There was a burning fire in her eyes; she looked completely pissed off. Eragon shrank back, mentally preparing himself for her onslaught.

Taking one step towards Eragon with every word she spoke, she said, _If you would allow me to finish what I__'__m saying, Eragon_, perhaps _you would find it easier to make a decision!!_ Her voice was not loud in his mind but it was extremely threatening.

Eragon nodded meekly.

Brom watched this silent exchange with twinkling eyes. Eragon's dragon was just as excitable as his own Saphira.

_It__'__s actually very simple. You have to kill Galbatorix. _Eragon opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say anything, Saphira snapped, _Shut up, Eragon. Let me finish. _Then Saphira opened the side of her mouth to reveal fangs that were the length of Eragon's leg. Eragon closed his mouth without saying anything more.

_You are the one who told me that we needed to kill Galbatorix; you are the one who told me that we have the power to kill Galbatorix. And now that we have Brom back, it seems that getting the help of the elves and the Varden is not going to be as hard as we thought. All in all, we just have to carry through with what we__'__ve already decided. Not a very difficult decision, is it, Eragon? _Saphira cocked her head to one side, staring at Eragon with what could only be described as contempt.

Eragon stared back at her and grudgingly said, _I suppose so. _

Turning to Brom, Eragon said, "Well, we've decided that we're just going to continue with our earlier decision. We will go to the Varden and enlist their and the elves help to march to Urû'baen and kill Galbatorix."

Brom looked at Eragon strangely before reaching into his armor and pulling out a ring. "This ring is called Aren, and the symbol on it is the yawë. It was given to me by the Queen Islanzadí, the ruler of the elves, as a sign of trust."

Before Eragon could say anything, Brom cut him off. "I know what you are going to ask me, Eragon, but I have to say no. I cannot go with you to the Varden or the elves. This decision was made before I came back; therefore, you have to continue with it as though I did not come back."

Frustrated, Eragon said, "But we need you to come with us, Brom! We aren't going to be trusted if we go there with something from the queen that belongs to you, and you yourself not there to explain things!" Saphira growled in the affirmative.

Taking Eragon's hand, Brom placed the ring on it. "I never said you should go to the Varden, Eragon." At Eragon's confused look, Brom went on. "I doubt that even with my memories, you would be able to find the way, anyway. No, you must go to the elves, although they will be even harder to find. Thus, you will need a guide."

Eragon looked thoroughly confused by now. Saphira didn't seem to understand, either.

"You need a guide because I cannot go with you, Eragon. This path is yours and yours alone. I must go back to Maudiso as soon as possible. I have already tampered far too much down here." Brom said firmly.

Eragon and Saphira wore the same look on their faces. It was look of dejection.

Brom sighed. Then gravely, he said, "I need you to do something for me, Eragon."

When Eragon nodded, albeit hesitantly, Brom said, "I need you to rescue someone. An elf by the name of Arya."

Eragon raised his eyebrows. Saphira looked curiously at Brom.

"She was ambushed and captured by Durza, the Shade, when she sent the egg to Carvahall. She wanted to send the egg to me, I think, but due to the amount of stress she was under, she missed and the egg went to you…." Brom looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think it was actually a good thing that she missed, otherwise we might never have found the new Rider." He smiled.

"I take it that she will be my guide once I rescue her?" Eragon asked.

"Aye. But what I'm afraid of is that the damn Shade has tortured her to her death, or worse, he has brought her to Galbatorix." Brom suddenly looked gloomy.

Eragon frowned slightly. "How do you know all of this?"

"TEM doesn't know the future anymore but we can still look down and find out about stuff that goes on. Of course, since I've departed from Maudiso I have no way of confirming whether she is still alive. But,' Brom said, standing up and stretching, 'As far as I know, she is in the last cell on the highest floor in the prison in Gil'ead. Show her the ring when you see her. From there, you are on your own."

"Wait!" Eragon exclaimed when Brom started to turn away. Brom turned back around to face the young Rider and his dragon.

"Will we succeed?" There was a look of desperation on Eragon's face.

"I don't know." Brom said hesitantly.

"Will Galbatorix be overthrown?" Eragon asked, the same note of desperation still in his voice.

Looking away, Brom said, "I don't know."

_Will we see you again? _Saphira asked.

At this, Brom merely smiled and nodded. Then he disappeared in a flash of bright light.

Part Two 

_(30 minutes later) _

Eragon was on Saphira's back. He took one last look around the clearing, making sure that there was nothing that belonged to him still in the clearing. He felt himself getting emotional as he relived all of his memories of the clearing, when Saphira had been only as high as his thighs, when Saphira had been big enough for him to sit in the hollow in her neck, although then she had not been strong enough to fly with him. Even the unhappy memories, Brom dying, Brom coming back. Eragon shook his head in amazement. There was so much that had happened, just in this small clearing.

_Eragon. Are you alright? _Saphira asked, concerned.

_Aye. _Eragon gripped the reins on her back and sat himself down firmly in the saddle. _Let__'__s go. _

Saphira agreed enthusiastically. She spread her wings-

But before she could fly, two hooded figures appeared at the edge of the clearing.

The Ra'zac.

Eragon heard a loud hiss come from the larger of the two before they started running towards him and Saphira.

"Fly, Saphira!" Eragon roared, simultaneously drawing his bow and nocking it. He rapidly fired off three, four, five, shots at the approaching Ra'zac.

Saphira's wings strained and suddenly, they were up in the sky.

But they weren't safe yet.

The Ra'zac quickly started firing arrows at Saphira's vulnerable belly and wings. Their arrows seemed to be enchanted and managed to go far further than normal arrows. Either that or the Ra'zac were stronger than Eragon thought.

_Just what we need, enchanted arrows and stronger opponents. _Eragon grumbled as Saphira quickly gained more altitude in an attempt to avoid the arrows.

Even fifty feet in the air, Eragon could hear the angry hisses of the Ra'zac when they realized that their prey was getting away.

But suddenly, several arrows pierced Saphira's wings. She roared in pain but kept flying.

Eragon quickly glanced down at the clearing that got smaller every time Saphira flapped her injured wings.

Aside from the two black spots that were the Ra'zac, he also saw a man with brown hair. Even from such a distance, Eragon could see the look of hate and disdain that was on the man's face. Eragon instinctively knew that this was the man who had shot the arrows that had pierced Saphira's wings.

Angered, Eragon quickly delved into his mind for the magic.

Eragon nocked another arrow and fired it, screaming, "Brisingr!"

The arrow flew down to the clearing, bright blue fire blazing on the tip of it. It missed the brown haired man but pierced the cloak of the larger Ra'zac.

Although they were now a fair distance away from the clearing, roughly a hundred feet in the air and even further ahead, Eragon still managed to hear the shrill scream that escaped the beak of the Ra'zac.

It sent a chill through his and Saphira's bones but a feeling of power overwhelmed that.

"Hah!" Eragon crowed, "That'll teach them to mess with us!"

At the sound of Saphira's labored breathing, the adrenaline rush left Eragon and he became worried.

_Saphira! Are you alright? _He felt that pain that Saphira was feeling, even though she tried to block it from him.

_It hurts but it__'__s not going to stop me from flying. _She admitted grimly.

_We__'__ll stop as soon as it__'__s dark and I__'__ll heal them for you. _Eragon promised.

_It__'__s alright, little one. It__'__s only a few small wounds. I__'__ll just keep flying until we reach Yazuac. _Saphira said, flying faster.

Eragon looked aghast. _Saphira! Are you mad? You could have lost all of your blood by then!_

Saphira snorted and said, _Yazuac actually isn__'__t that far, Eragon. If I don__'__t stop flying, we can probably get there by next morning. You need the supplies. _

_I don__'__t need the supplies _that_ badly, Saphira. _Eragon argued. _You just need to stop for five bloody minutes, alright? I just need to get those damn arrows out and heal the holes in your wing! What__'__s so hard about that?! You__'__re being absolutely ridiculous! _

Saphira was silent as Eragon fumed.

After five minutes of silence while the woods below them sped past rapidly, Saphira grudgingly said, _I__'__ll stop at that hill over there. _

_Okay. _Eragon replied tensely.

Soon, Saphira managed to land awkwardly on the small hill amongst a swath of trees. She kept her wings open. Her wings actually hurt a lot, not that she would ever admit that to Eragon; she was too proud.

Jumping off her back and landing nimbly on the ground, Eragon turned to her right wing. It was punctured in four different places, and blood was running out freely. Almost her entire wing was covered in blood. Frowning, Eragon noted that the holes were bigger than the average size.

Shaking his head and just glad that the arrows had gone all the way through, Eragon quickly muttered "Waíse heill."

Saphira shivered as she felt the muscles and skin growing back together. When it was completely healed, she said sincerely, _Thank you. _

_Don__'__t thank me yet, _Eragon said grimly, _your other wing seems to be in much worse shape. _

Saphira stretched out her neck to stare at her left wing.

Two of the arrows were still embedded in her wing. Eragon finally figured out why the holes in her right wing had been so large.

The arrows looked like a normal arrow except that they were made of some sort of metal and there weren't any feathers. In place of the feathers were long sharp spikes.

Eragon was amazed that the man had managed to shoot them so high when they were so heavy. He also wondered who this new threat was.

More importantly, he had no idea how to get the arrows out.

If he pulled it out through, he would probably cause even more damage to the wing. But if he pulled it through the back, the spikes would probably rip out more of Saphira's wing and he didn't know whether magic could fix a wound that bad.

He felt thoroughly frustrated. He wanted to kill the person who had created such a terrible weapon. He wanted to murder the brown haired man who had shot the arrows. Most of all, he wanted to kill himself for being so careless as to not erect any wards around them, thus causing Saphira to be vulnerable.

_Eragon. _Saphira interrupted his thoughts, _You have to pull it out. _

_I know, I know! But I don__'__t know whether it will make things worse or not. _Eragon felt helpless.

Staring Eragon in the eye, Saphira said firmly, _This is not going to be the worst wound I__'__m going to get, Eragon. We are going to war, and when we do, it__'__s not going to just be a few arrows. Pulling it through the front will cause less damage to my wing and then you can heal it. _

Eragon took a deep breath and nodded.

There was no point in blaming himself for what had happened, he couldn't change it anyway. All he could do was learn and move on.

First he quickly erected wards around himself and Saphira, searching through his mind until he found the correct words.

Then he grabbed the end of the arrow, careful not to injure himself on the spikes.

_Ready? _Eragon asked tensely.

Saphira dug her claws into the ground. _Ready. _

Eragon took another breath and then he pulled.

Saphira roared loudly but didn't allow herself to move for fear of hurting Eragon.

As Eragon had feared, the head of the arrow had made an even bigger puncture when he pulled it out, but it wasn't too bad.

He quickly muttered the spell and went on to the next arrow. Bracing himself, Eragon pulled the other arrow out and healed that too.

By the time he was finished, Saphira was panting.

_Are you better? _Eragon asked, a worried frown on his face.

_Yes. Hurry, let__'__s go. I have a bad feeling about this place. _Saphira said.

Eragon nodded and climbed back onto her back. Saphira leapt off the ground and was high above the trees and about to fly off when they heard a horrible withering shriek coming from behind them.

Eragon whirled around to look while Saphira started to fly.

He saw two huge twisted shapes hurtle out of the sky towards them. The creatures had bulging black eyes, like a fly. They each had a seven foot long beak and batlike wings. Their torso was naked and hairless, rippling with muscles. They had claws like iron spikes.

The Lethrblaka.

They looked like a Pegasus experiment gone horribly horribly wrong.

And what was worse, the Ra'zac was on their backs, one on each. And the brown haired man was sitting behind the smaller Ra'zac.

Eragon groaned and pulled out his bow, nocking it.

He felt his energy drain as the arrows hit the wards that he had constructed around himself and Saphira.

Carefully, he twisted in his seat so that he was facing the two flying monsters. Eragon noticed that the larger Ra'zac had shed its cloak, revealing a- something that looked vaguely human. The Ra'zac had and ebony exoskeleton that encased them from top to bottom. They also had the eyes and beaks of their parents, the Lethrblaka. However, the larger Ra'zac had a large scar that looked burnt on its shoulder. This seemed to hinder his movements as well as cause it considerable pain. This brought a slight smirk onto Eragon's face, a smirk that quickly faded when it opened it's beak and let out a loud, shrill cry.

Reaching into his well of magic, Eragon used the same spell that he had used earlier.

"Brisingr!"

His arrows darted towards the enemy, fire blazing on the head of it. The arrows that flew towards the Lethrblaka with the brown haired man on it stopped in midair but those that flew towards the other Lethrblaka went unhindered. They pierced the grey hide of the Lethrblaka, causing it to let out another shriek, this one even louder than the first.

Eragon was amazed that neither Galbatorix nor the brown haired man had put up wards for the Lethrblaka and the Ra'zac. The metallic blue-green blood from the Lethrblaka flowed freely, falling towards the woods below. Taking advantage of this weakness, Eragon let loose more arrows towards the Lethrblaka.

The Lethrblaka quickly dodged this volley of arrows by going down

But what it didn't count on

Was the arrows hitting its rider right in the face. The larger Ra'zac immediately plummeted towards the ground, dead.

The Lethrblaka stopped chasing Eragon and let out a wail so loud that it had surely damaged its own eardrums.

The remaining Ra'zac joined in the wailing with clicks and shrieks of its own.

The brown haired man looked vaguely bored as both Lethrblaka swooped towards the dead Ra'zac, the riders having no choice in the matter.

Eragon patted Saphira's flanks and they flew on as fast as possible. There was no point waiting for the brown haired man to start firing metal arrows again.

_Well. One down, at least. _Saphira said grimly.

_Aye. And perhaps the Lethrblaka will bleed to death too. _Eragon mused.

_Won__'__t the man heal it? _Saphira asked, confused.

_I don__'__t know, but somehow I don__'__t think so. He didn__'__t heal the Ra__'__zac that I shot. _Eragon said thoughtfully. _Maybe he doesn__'__t like the Ra__'__zac. He didn__'__t really seem to care when it died. _

_Well, then he is an even more dangerous enemy, for he doesn__'__t even seem to care about those he is on the same side with. _Saphira commented.

Eragon wholeheartedly agreed.

And then they flew on.

* * *

A/N: Well, another chapter, more questions. Who is this brown haired man? Will Eragon and Saphira be able to rescue Arya?

Hopefully, these questions will be answered in the next chapter, or the next, or maybe the next after that.

I know some things don't add up, such as how Eragon knows so much, but if we just accept that you know it, and he somehow knows it, we will all be so much happier. =)

This is actually my first fic, so if you think of any suggestions, please, do R&R.

Well, I hope you enjoy this. I haven't started on Chapter 4, somehow I always feel exhausted after writing a whole chapter. But, hopefully, I will start soon…. So anyway, happy reading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Part 1

Yelping, he dodged away from the Urgal's brutal attack. The horned monster roared in frustration.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Saphira open her mouth and almost lazily burn the Urgals in front of her to a crisp.

Cursing, Eragon quickly dodged away from the Urgal's huge sword and ran, his mind swimming with questions.

Why the hell were there Urgal's here?

When they had arrived at Yazuac, it had been night. Eragon had directed Saphira to land just outside of Yazuac. The moment they landed, they had been attacked.

Whirling around, Eragon loosed a few arrows at his pursuers. The Urgals stopped and raised their shields, deflecting all of the arrows, jeering all the while. Eragon cursed again, but held his ground. He could see the Urgals starting to surround him, at least ten of them. But he saw something else that worried him. The rest of the Urgals, about fifty of them, had emerged from the trees and were circling around the gates of Yazuac.

_Saphira! I think they want to invade Yazuac! You have to stop them! _Eragon said urgently while shooting arrows at the Urgals, who simply blocked the arrows.

Saphira did not reply, but she started to fight off the Urgals from behind, startling them.

Taking a deep breath, Eragon quickly scooped up a bunch of rocks from the ground. The Urgals laughed at him, scoffed at him. Eragon ignored them then he used a trick Brom had taught him. Reaching for the magic, Eragon shouted out and then he sent the rocks flying.

The rocks were faster and deadlier than arrows could ever be, because they were fortified with magic. The rocks, each at size of a fist, passed through the skulls of 5 Urgals. They fell to the ground, dead.

The remaining Urgals roared and banged their swords against their shields, advancing. Eragon realized that he had no time to repeat his trick.

He quickly drew Zar'roc, praying that Brom's skill with a sword was now his.

The first Urgal charged.

Eragon felt his hand move almost unconsciously upwards to block the Urgal's attack. Zar'roc seemed to gleam, basking in the glory of the fight. The clang of metal on metal rang through the air; Eragon felt himself twisting, turning, slashing, blocking. He felt more alive than ever before.

He slashed Zar'roc through the air, Urgal blood streaming down it. The Urgals fell one by one as Eragon let the sword and Brom's skills take over.

When all the Urgals around him were dead or dying, Eragon rushed over to Saphira, who was only just holding her own.

The Urgals that were left, not that many of them, were pressing her back with their swords and spears. She sent a burst of fire towards them, but the Urgals, wary of her trick, jumped back. She quickly reached out a claw and grabbed the Urgal that had moved too slowly. Saphira crushed the Urgal's head between her teeth and roared.

By this time, the noise had awakened most of the villagers that lived in Yazuac. The guards peeked over the gates, but did not dare to come out.

Eragon felt enraged. Here they were, fighting tooth and nail to protect themselves and Yazuac, and there they were, hiding behind the walls like a bunch of cowards.

Eragon raised his hand with the gedwëy ignasia on it and as it glowed, he frantically barked out, "Jierda!"

All the Urgals around Saphira fell down, clutching their ankles. Saphira immediately opened her maw and burned them to death. Eragon quickly approached her and put a hand on her back for support. The world around him was spinning and he felt exhausted.

Suddenly, there were a bunch of guards around him, their spears out and their guards up.

Saphira growled menacingly as Eragon slowly turned around.

A tall, stocky man stepped out of the circle of guards and, raising his arms to show that he was unarmed, he spoke to Eragon.

He spoke slowly and confidently, "I do not know your name, Rider, but I think it does not matter. I believe that you have saved our town from the Urgals, and for that, we are in your debt. We wish you no harm if you wish us no harm in return."

Eragon stared at the man. He had steely grey eyes and a head of long blonde hair that he had tied into a long ponytail at the base of his neck. Eragon cast his mind out, only to find that the man had a strong shield around his mind.

While Eragon's face remained motionless, his mind was turning. _Can we trust him, you think? _He asked Saphira.

Saphira snorted, causing the guards to jump, but the blonde man didn't move. _I think so. His mind is blocked but maybe he had a good tutor. We have no choice but to trust him for the moment, but don't let your guard down. _

Eragon agreed. "Who are you? Do you speak for all the villagers of Yazuac?"

The blonde man replied gravely, "I am the son of the chief of Yazuac. I speak in my father's stead because he is sick and unable to take command of his men. My name is Scorpius Avonsson."

Nodding slowly, Eragon said, "My name is Eragon Bromsson. Her name is Saphira. We wish none of you harm. We came here only for supplies; stopping the Urgals was pure chance."

Scorpius started when he heard Eragon's name, but he made no comment on it. Instead, he graciously said, "Please, Eragon Bromsson and Saphira, make yourselves welcome in Yazuac. Whatever supplies you need, do not hesitate to ask, and you shall receive. Consider this our payment for saving us."

Surprised, but pleasantly so, Eragon said, "Thank you."

_I think they will not harm you. Can I go and hunt? _Saphira seemed to be hungry.

_Aye. Go and hunt but don't go too far. I may need you to come back. _

Saphira spread her wings, causing the guards around them to step back in shock but they automatically raised their spears.

Eragon said, "Saphira needs to hunt, will you just back off?"

When Scorpius nodded, the men lowered their spears and stepped back a few paces.

Before Saphira could take off, Eragon asked with some concern, _Saphira! Wait! You are hurt, do you need me to heal you?_

_No. It's only a few cuts and small wounds. You are not strong enough at the moment, anyway. Heal me when I come back, but you need to get something to eat first. _Saphira said gently.

Eragon nodded. Saphira took off, hanging in the sky above them for a moment before darting away.

Squaring his shoulders, Eragon followed Scorpius and his men into Yazuac.

As he walked in, he saw villagers staring at him from half-opened windows and doorways. They seemed to be scared of him. He sensed quite a bit of fear from them, but he wasn't worried. What worried Eragon was that he still couldn't sense anything from Scorpius. He had a well guarded mind.

Frowning, he followed Scorpius into a large house in the center of the town. He waited in the doorway as Scorpius gave his orders to the guards. The guards dispersed and Scorpius turned to Eragon.

"This is my home. Would you mind meeting my father? He's always wanted to meet a Rider." Scorpius seemed almost embarrassed to ask

Eragon nodded, albeit hesitantly.

Scorpius brought him up the sturdy wooden staircase and to the room at the end. Suddenly, Eragon had a really bad feeling.

Scorpius opened the door and told Eragon to go in.

Eragon could smell a disgusting stench, it was the smell of someone who had been sick far too long to still be alive. It was the putrid smell of something that had been rotting away for a long time.

Suddenly, Eragon didn't much want to meet his father. There was something wrong. Something very wrong. Eragon stood at the landing, not daring to enter.

"What's wrong, Eragon Bromsson? Go on, get in, meet my father." Scorpius' voice was soft, calming, hypnotic.

Eragon felt his legs move automatically. Every fiber of his being was screaming out to him, _No!_ But he couldn't do anything. He had to do what this voice told him to, he had no choice.

The room was very dark, pitch black; even with his heightened senses, Eragon couldn't see anything. The smell increased tenfold when he went in and he could feel himself gagging. The room felt damp and musty. He could hear the sound of someone, or something's labored breathing. It was a thin breath, harsh and painful.

"Who's there?" A voice, tight with tension, sharp with pain.

Eragon remained silent.

Again. "Who is it? Speak!" the voice was higher now, feral.

Eragon could no longer stand the darkness. "Kveykva!" he barked.

A bright red light appeared at the top of the room, which was bigger than Eragon had anticipated. The light cast an eerie reddish glow on everything, making things look distorted.

When Eragon looked around, he wished that he had never made the light.

The room was bigger than Eragon's house had been, and it was completely bare except for a small bed in the corner of it. The voice came from that bed, screaming in pain. "No! No light, no light, no light!" It continued screaming this; the sound was like fingernails scraping a chalkboard.

Eragon felt like he was underwater, the pressure in his ears was immense. He couldn't take it any longer, he turned to the door.

Which wasn't there anymore.

Eragon felt the breath leave his lungs, suffocating him. Where was the door?

He was trapped by four empty walls.

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. Taking as deep a breath as his constricted lungs would allow, he starting moving slowly towards the bed.

The smell intensified, he could feel his eyes watering. Breathing as little as he could through his nose, he managed to keep his bile down.

When Eragon stood next to the bed, he wished that they had never come to Yazuac, that the Urgals had just killed all the villagers, that the Urgals had just killed all of them.

The man lying on the bed was as dead as a human could be without dying.

He had been stripped down, leaving him bare except for a pair of shorts that may have one fitted him, but was now far too big for him.

His was thin, very thin. His ribs could easily be seen, and from a distance, people would assume that he was a skeleton.

His skin was pale and seemed to be as fragile as paper.

His eyes were sunken and unseeing; blind.

His nails were long and ragged, as was his hair.

Because he was almost nude, Eragon could see every bit of torture that had been inflicted on this man.

He had been branded over and over all over his body with a picture of a scorpion.

Eragon felt disgusted. What man would do this?

His mind flashed back.

"_My father is sick… My name is Scorpius."_

Scorpius.

Scorpions.

Eragon cursed aloud.

The man, who Eragon now realized was Scorpius' father, turned his head towards the sound.

"Who is it? Who's there?" The man, Avon's, voice was weak now. His voice was low and soft.

Eragon didn't reply, he couldn't.

Avon seemed to break down. "Scorpius? Son? Is that you? Scorpius! Let me go, Scorpius!"

Eragon could only stare numbly.

"Why, why did you do this, Scorpius?" Avon was sobbing now, heart wracking, dry hacking sobs. His body had run out of liquids a long time ago. "Scorpius!" he screamed.

Eragon's mind was reeling. What kind of man would do this to his own father?? He had to get this man out, he had to save Avon. He needed Saphira.

Where was she? Why hadn't she come to his rescue yet?

Eragon sent his mind out, searching for her, to no avail. The room was obviously magically protected.

"Fuck!" Eragon swore.

Avon stopped crying. "Scor- Scorpius?"

Eragon could only feel pity when he looked at the shell of the man that was left.

"No. I am not Scorpius. My name is Eragon Bromsson. I am a Rider." Eragon said as gently as possible.

The man seemed stunned. Then he broke out into a tirade. "Brom. Bromsson?! What the hell are you doing here? It is because of Brom that I am here! Riders. Riders! It's all their fault!!"

Avon had raised his thin arms and was waving them around, as though hoping that he could hit Eragon.

Eragon was shocked. It was because of Brom that he was here? What was he talking about?

"Get out! Get out! Don't touch me with your filthy hands, Bromsson. Get out!" Avon shouted angrily, but still weakly.

Eragon shook his head, forgetting that Avon couldn't see. But then how he possibly see the light?

Hoping to placate Avon while he tried to figure out a way to get out, Eragon said, "Why do you say it was Brom who put you in here? Wasn't it because of Scorpius?"

Avon seemed enraged. "That bloody Brom taught my son how to use magic! And then, before Scorpius could truly control it, he left! The bastard left my son brimming with magic and with no right idea of how to use it! Of course, Scorpius then wanted to take over my place, all because he had magic and I didn't! So, he put me in this room, occasionally feeding me. I've no idea how long I've been here, but it's been so long since I've seen the light, I've gone blind, I think. It's only when it's really bright that I manage to see anything at all…." Avon's voice trailed off, all the anger gone from it.

Eragon frowned. That didn't seem like Brom at all. He would explore the matter further, but for now, he needed to get the hell out of that room.

He felt completely drained after killing so many Urgals with magic, but he had no choice. Summoning the last of his strength, he said, "Jierda!"

He felt his energy drain, he saw the walls flash brightly, but nothing else happened.

Sighing heavily, he let himself drop to the floor. There was absolutely nothing that he could do. He could not escape by himself, he could not tell Saphira what had happened to him; all he could do was wait for Scorpius to come back.

Realizing that he probably had plenty of time, he decided to try and figure out what happened so many years ago.

Ignoring Avon's groans (he wouldn't be able to heal him even if he had wanted to), he cast his mind back, searching for any memories related to Yazuac.

_Selena staring at him, her hair glistening in the firelight, her eyes dark and damp. A black robe covered her modestly. She looked nervous and fearful. She had been crying. "I- I can't, Brom," she said to him. _

_He approached Selena, speaking in the gentlest voice Eragon had ever heard come from Brom's lips. "Selena, I love you. You have to come with me. Please, leave Morzan before he can do any more damage to you…"_

_Selena stared up at him, tears in her eyes. "I- And I love you as well, Brom. But I cannot leave Murtagh. He is a child. He is _my_ child. I must stay, if only to protect him." _

_She would have said more, but Brom had leaned down to kiss her. Her tears made a trail down her face as she kissed him back. He pushed her robe off her shoulders and down onto the stone floor. _

Before Eragon could stop the memory, the memory changed.

_Brom charged into Yazuac on a panting horse and leapt off. Handing the reins to a nearby stable boy, Brom tersely said, "Have my horse ready in an hour's time," before handing a silver coin to the boy. _

_The boy's eyes widened before he nodded and led the foaming horse to the stable._

_Brom slowly walked into the inn and sat at the bar. _

"_What'll it be?" the bartender asked him gruffly._

"_Beer. Keep it coming." Brom replied flatly. Before the bartender could turn away, he asked as casually as he could, "By the way, have you received any letters addressed for Brom?" _

_The bartender raised his eyebrows at Brom before pulling out two letters from under the counter. "One came in last month. The other came in last week." He said. "You _are _Brom, are you?" _

_Brom nodded and the bartender handed him the letters, shrugging and said, "Just checking."_

_Brom thanked him and took the letters as fast as he could without seeming desperate. When the bartender turned his head to get Brom's order, Brom quickly ripped the top off the envelope of the letter that had been there for a month. _

_When he saw Selena's neat, slanted handwriting, he smiled. He had to chuckle when he read Selena's descriptions of her son, Murtagh's hilarious antics. _

_Finishing half his beer, Brom quickly tore open the next letter. _

_The color of his face drained away as he read through the second letter. Scrawled on it was,_

Brom,

Selena has just given birth and is very sick. She demands that I send this to Yazuac, requesting your presence at her bedside in Carvahall. I don't know who you are but I am just doing what my beloved sister tells me to. Please come to her as soon as possible. I don't mean to sound grim, but please come and grant what might be her dying wish.

Garrow.

_Brom quickly drained the last of his beer and threw some coins down on the counter. Before the bartender could say anything, he had grabbed the letters and dashed out the door. _

_And crashed into a young child that closely resembled Scorpius._

_The child fell on the ground and frowned up at Brom. He was getting red in the face and would probably have said something rude, had someone who could only have been Avon reached around him and carried him up. _

"_Sorry about that," Avon said cheerfully, "Scorpius here is just a little bit excited today."_

_Brom ignored Avon; he was busy staring incredulously at Scorpius. _

_Snapping his head up, Brom asked sharply, "How old is he?"_

_Avon frowned but didn't comment on Brom's brusqueness. Instead, he just said, "He's almost 5."_

_Brom let out a breath through his nose before saying, "Well, that's pretty much when magical ability will be able to be felt. He's got talent in him, that one. I can feel it."_

_Avon could only stare openmouthed at Brom and then at Scorpius, and then back again. "Are- Are you sure?" he managed to gasp out. _

"_Aye. I'm sure." Brom said. _

_Hesitantly, Avon asked, "Can you teach him anything? I am chief of this town, one day he will be. Yazuac needs a powerful leader, and if he knew magic…. That would certainly help."_

_Brom frowned. He wanted to stay and teach the young child; there was so much power in him that could be felt, but he had no time. He had to get to Selena. _

_Against his better judgement, Brom placed a hand against the child's head and muttered a long spell in the ancient language._

_When he was done, he said, "There. As the child grows, so will his knowledge of the magic. Take care of him."_

Eragon gasped and the memory faded. Frowning, he started to concentrate again.

_He dashed up to the door of Garrow's home and knocked on the door frantically. When a younger looking Garrow than Eragon had ever seen before opened the door, he heard the words spill out of hi__s mouth. "Where's Selena? Is she alright?" _

_Garrow stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before he saying in some shock, "Brom?"_

_Brom gave a curt nod. Garrow looked like he wanted to punch him. Angrily, he said, "I sent that letter three weeks ago, Brom! I don't know who the fuck you are, but my sister wanted you to be there!"_

_Brom's face hardened and he scowled deeply. "I left Yazuac as soon as I got your letter. I haven't eaten in days and I feel exhausted. I did all of this for your sister, and here you are, berating me. I don't think there's any point in delaying me any longer than three weeks. Let me go to Selena, now." There was an unmistakable note of finality in his voice. _

_Garrow scowled just as deeply as Brom and blocked the door with his body before he harshly said, "She was going through labor for 15 hours. And during those 15 hours, she kept saying your name, and asking me to send a message to Yazuac. I didn't even know who the hell you were, but I could tell she really wanted you there. You are three weeks late, and she is already gone."_

_Brom paled noticeable. "Is she- Is she- Dead?" he could hardly say the words._

_Garrow raised his eyebrows and frowned. "No. She's fine. Just not here. She left right after giving birth and naming the babe."_

_Brom's shoulders slumped in relief. "Thank you,' he said sincerely, "Thank you for taking care of her."_

_Garrow nodded distractedly then opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, a raven-haired woman appeared from behind him. _

_Eragon inwardly gasped in shock, seeing as he had no control over Brom's body, when he realized it was Marian, who he had not seen since he was four and she had passed away. _

_She stared openly and intensely at Brom and said, "Brom?"_

"_Aye. How did you know it was me?" Brom said in surprise. _

_She shrugged and said simply, "Selena has told me quite a lot about you." _

_It was only then that Brom noticed the baby in her arms. _

_The baby looked like Selena and vaguely like him. He was fast asleep, his eyes were shut tight and he was gripping hard onto Marian's clothes. _

_Garrow looked from Brom to the baby, from the baby to Brom before sighing heavily and running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I think you better come in." He said, resigned._

_Brom followed Garrow and Marian in to the house, his eyes never leaving the baby. _

_They sat at the table and Garrow started staring at Brom. Marian rolled her eyes and left the table, presumably to tuck Eragon in. _

_Eragon found himself staring at Garrow, since that was what Brom was doing, when all he wanted to do was stare at himself. His past self. He felt himself getting a headache when he tried to think about it. _

_Then Garrow spoke. "You are the father." It wasn't a question. _

_Brom merely shrugged. "Where is Selena?" he demanded. _

_Garrow narrowed his eyes and a look of distaste appeared on his face. "How could you? How could you have left her alone? She refused to tell us who the father was but we guessed it was you since she kept asking for you… How could you knock my sister up and then leave her to fend for herself? Are you even a man?"_

_Eragon felt Brom wince as Garrow's voice got louder and angrier with each word he spoke. _

_Brom closed his eyes and said softly, "She never told me she was pregnant."_

_Garrow slammed his fist down on the table and shouted, "You damn sure should have noticed! It's not that hard to see when a woman is with child, you know! You left her defenseless! She got here 5 months ago, looking completely exhausted and like she had been through hell and back, twice, and then she told us that she needed a place to stay. We let her; how could we not? Not to mention, we never questioned her and we took care of her! And where the hell were you all this time?"_

_Brom sighed and rubbed his eyes with his hands. "Perhaps it's time I tell you everything."_

_Garrow nodded stiffly as Marian entered the room. "Roran and Eragon are both asleep."_

_Brom's eyes widened when he heard the name. _

_Marian sat down next to Garrow and turned to Brom. "Eragon is yours, Roran is mine, he's 2 years old."_

_Brom could only nod, he was thunderstruck. What had Selena done by naming her son after the first Rider?_

"_Well?" Garrow growled. "I thought you were going to tell us everything?"_

_Brom took a deep breath and said, "My name is Brom. I am a Rider. Well, I'm more of an ex-Rider because my own dragon is dead. I work for the Varden. A year ago, I infiltrated Morzan's castle as a gardener so that I could spy for them. It was there that I met Selena."_

_Garrow's voice interrupted Brom's story. "What on earth would Selena be doing at Morzan's castle? What did he want with her? Did he hurt her?" his voice was urgent and worried, _

_Brom frowned. He didn't want to be the one to break the news of Selena's marriage to Morzan; he was sure it would devastate them. He sighed inwardly, wondering how loving Selena had brought him to this mess. _

"_She is his wife." He said flatly._

_Garrow and Marian looked stunned. "Impossible," Garrow managed to choke out. _

_Brom shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it's true. He somehow managed to capture her heart... But a year ago, he lost it. To me."_

_The couple could only stare at Brom incredulously. _

"_I- I love her. And she loves me as well. I wanted to take her away from Morzan, but she wouldn't let me. She wanted to stay and take care of her other child, Murtagh." Garrow and Marian visibly blanched at the thought of Morzan siring a child. "The last I saw of her was 6 months ago. I quit the gardener job and went back to the Varden. Selena refused to leave with me so I had no choice but to go. She- She begged me to stay,' Brom faltered, "But I had to go back to the Varden. I felt as though she had chosen Morzan over me… I was so angry and then I just… I- I left her behind." He looked completely broken by the time he finished._

"_I feel so ashamed. You were right, Garrow. I am not a man. I should have known what was going on with her. I had heard from her maids that she had been throwing up every day, but when I asked her about it, she just told me not to worry. I don't know… Maybe she thought I wouldn't have wanted my child…' Brom choked on his words, "Maybe-Maybe when I made the decision to leave her, she decided that I didn't deserve to know…" Brom leaned forward and covered his face with his hands again. _

_The next thing he knew, Marian was by his side, gently rubbing his shoulders. "It's not your fault, Brom. If she didn't want you to know, it was for a very good reason. When she was here, for 5 months she always spoke of you. When she first came, she was depressed and never spoke to us about what had happened, and we didn't press. But eventually she opened up and she told us that she was heartbroken. Then she started telling us about you. She said that she was in love with you, but you chose work over her. We didn't really understand, but we just let her talk… Her talk was of sad things, but when she spoke of you she somehow seemed happier…"_

_Garrow clapped Brom on the shoulder and continued, "But once she got that off her chest, she would talk about you almost constantly. We'd be taking a walk along the woods, and she'd point at a daisy and say things like, "That's Brom's favorite flower." Or we'd be having dinner and eating baked beans and she'd say, "Brom hates baked beans."_

_Brom raised his head and let a small smile creep on his face. "I don't even know how she knows that… We only had baked beans once… And she still remembered that…" then he smile abruptly fell off. "_I _don't even know what's her favorite flower, or food." A sad look fell on his face again. "I never noticed about her likes and dislikes. I feel like I've let her down… Again."_

_Marian smiled and gently said, "What _did _you notice about her, then?"_

_Brom thought for a while, then slowly said, "I know she's proud. She would rather not eat than take from others. She refuses to accept pity or charity.' _

_Marian laughed, "Sounds just like Garrow here." Garrow just smiled back at her._

_Brom went on, a faraway look on his eyes, "She's proud, but she's very generous. If she had a piece of bread, or a shilling, she would rather give it to a beggar than keep it for herself. She is kind, and loving. If she saw a bird with a broken wing, she would take it home and heal it rather than put it out of its misery, like some would. _

_She's compassionate, self-sacrificing. She would sacrifice herself for a friend, or her child-"_

"_Or you." Marian cut in. _

_Brom's bushy eyebrows went up to his hairline. _

"_Aye," Garrow nodded in affirmative. "She was at Morn's one day after giving birth when she heard some men laugh. They were soldiers and they said, "It's about time that Brom died!" She practically ran home and started crying. _

"_She refused to tell us what was going on but eventually when she was almost asleep we heard her say, 'I would give my life for his." She said it quite dreamily but I'm sure she meant it. The next day, she left. She didn't tell us where, though I now assume it's back to Morzan's castle." _

_Brom stood up so fast that he knocked his chair over. "I have to go to her. There's no telling what Morzan will do to her for being gone for 5 months." _

"_Wait.' Marian pleaded, "What about Eragon?" _

_A look of pain flashed across Brom's face. Eragon could feel a tumult of emotions cross him. Regret at himself, anger at Morzan, worry and love for Selena, and for the baby… A strange kind of explosive love, protectiveness… It was… Fathership… _

_Brom was silent and grave for a while, then he said, "I am- I am his father, yea. But, I don't think you should tell him that. Raise him as your child, tell him about Selena, tell him about Morzan, if you must, but don't tell him about me. My request to you is to raise him as your own. Please. I am sure Selena wanted that as well, else she would have taken the babe with her. " _

_Garrow and Marian looked so confused, Eragon almost wanted to laugh, if he hadn't wanted to cry over Brom not wanting him. _

"_Why__ should we not tell him? Don't you think your son deserves to know his father?" Marian demanded angrily. _

_Brom lowered his gaze, unable to meet Marian's angry one. "Because, I've done some things I'm- not proud of. And I would rather Eragon not have a father who has done the things I've done. Or at least, I would rather he not _know_ about his father who's done these things," he amended. _

"_If you're talking about not knowing about her pregnancy,' Marian retorted furiously, "I'm sure he won't mind. I'm sure he'd rather know his father and-"_

"_It's not that!" Brom roared angrily, slamming his fist on the table. Garrow and Marian looked shocked. _

_Panting heavily, teeth clenched, Brom seethed, "You know nothing about me. My past, my future, they all begin and end in death. Everywhere I go, I bring death with me. People have died for me, because of me. I- I need him to have a father who is pure. Please, Garrow, I beg of you, take him as your son." Brom looked defeated, all fight and anger had left his face, now he only looked lost, desperate, and alone. _

_Garrow hesitated, look at Brom, then at his wife, then back again at Brom. "I-,' he swallowed, 'I don't think that this is the right thing for you to do, but if you are going to Morzan, I would rather Eragon remain here. On the other hand, Eragon should not believe that I am his father; that would be wrong to him. When he is older, I will tell him that I am not his real father. But just to appease you, I will not tell him who you are." Garrow looked sad as he said the last part. He could not imagine growing up without a father, and he could not imagine the pain separation with your only son could cause. _

_Brom __nodded and smiled in thanks before standing up. "May I- May I see my… My son? Before I leave?"_

_Marian smiled. "How can I deny you your own son?"_

_She brought him towards the back of the house to his old bedroom, where Eragon remembered spending much time when he wasn't working in the fields. _

_Lifting Eragon- Baby Eragon out of the crib, Marian gently deposited him in Brom's outstretched arms. _

_Brom drew the small child towards him, embracing him lovingly. He stared down at the closed eyes, soft nose, lips that sucked at his own thumb, small tuft of brown hair and could not help but smile widely. This was the product of his and Selena's love. There wasn't anything in the world purer than a child made only out of pure love. _

_Marian grinned and whispered to her husband from the corner of her mouth. "He's a natural, unlike someone I know." Garrow didn't reply, choosing instead to smile and wrap his arms around his wife as they watched Brom cuddle his son. _

_It was when Baby Eragon had started to snuggle into Brom's chest to get comfortable did Brom's chest constrict, and he had to put the boy down. The thought of not knowing his only son grow up was too much. Breathing in deeply the scent of the innocent child one last time, Brom quickly left the room. _

_The husband and wife were extremely surprised and they followed Brom out the door. They didn't pity him because they didn't see the tears he tried not to shed. _

Eragon gasped and came back to the present time, tears cascading down his cheeks silently. He allowed himself to cry freely for the first time since Garrow's death. Garrow… Brom… Selena… Marian… It was too much… He pulled his legs up towards him and hugged them tightly as he sobbed.

Avon heard him sobbing and was reminded of a time when his Scorpius had cried that much. He had fallen the last three steps of the stairs, even when Avon had told him many times to be careful and not run down the stairs. That had been one of the last times Scorpius had cried. It was the day before they had met Brom.

He heard Eragon's sobs, and could not help but feel heartened. The son of Brom was suffering just as much, if not more than him, from the sound of his crying. Perhaps the boy should know what had happened because of the foul-mouthed dog, Brom, if only to make him feel worse.

"After that fool did what he did to Scorpius, he left. Scorpius suddenly seemed to know what to say to use magic, and he got more powerful everyday. Then one day he blew up this house, and built it back again, in the same hour, just to show that he could. He had only been fifteen then, just 3 years ago. Then he stuck me into this room which we had never had before in our old house. And… I've been here even since. So, if you're crying because of Brom,' he sneered, 'I can't say I'm surprised. He's got a habit of destroying little children."

Avon was not a cruel man, but he was a bitter shell of a man.

Panting heavily, hardly able to breathe, Eragon staggered to his feet and, standing above Avon, said in a deadly, fierce voice, "Say anything, _anything, _bad about Brom ever again, and I will destroy you without a second thought. I know what spell Brom used. It was meant for your son to learn magic slowly, all information that he needed to know coming to him gradually. It's an amazingly difficult spell, but it won't go wrong. Unless there are outside pressures,' Eragon emphasized, 'that force him to learn everything impossibly fast.

"When that happens,' Eragon paused, then slowly said, 'This happens."

Avon, if possible, paled even more. "I- I…."

"It is you, Avon, that made your son into the monster he is now. Perhaps if you had allowed him to learn magic according to how the spell saw fit, instead of forcing him to perform hard magic well beyond his years, and allowing him a childhood as normal as possible with magic, he would not have stuck you here to rot slowly. It's not Brom that you should blame, but yourself." Eragon no longer felt pity for the old shrunken man, who was quivering and sobbing empty tears again.

Eragon was not cruel, but he sometimes he pushed compassion aside.

Just then, the door appeared behind him and opened to reveal Scorpius.

The blonde man raised his eyes at the scene in front of him and said callously, "Father, do you finally feel remorse?' and then before Avon could reply, he continued scathingly, "No? I didn't think so either."

Eragon wiped away the tear streaks on his face before turning around to face Scorpius. In a voice that is only meant for friends, Eragon said pleasantly, "Hello, Scorpius Avonsson. I trust you are in the best of health?"

Scorpius looked confused for a moment before he composed himself and replied in the same tone of voice, "Hello Eragon Bromsson. I am, in fact, in the best of health, but I must correct you on my name. I am not Avonsson. You may call me Scorpius Bromsson," then he smirked.

Eragon was shocked, and he didn't try to hide it. "What the hell are you talking about?' he demanded, 'Brom is _my _father, not yours. Are you mentally disabled?"

"I beg to differ. Brom gave me the tools I needed for the power I wanted. With that in mind, you may compare him to Avon, who is a bastard if there ever was, who forced me to perform magic even when I was completely exhausted. Although,' Scorpius looked thoughtful, 'I _am_ much more powerful than I would be had I just gone with the spell. I suppose, for that, I'd have to thank you, Avon,' he addressed the old man, 'so, thank you for making me the chief of the village. Although, I definitely would have preferred it if you had loved me instead of used me."

Avon was silent and still, seemingly used to this speech.

"And now, as for the Rider..." Scorpius turned to face Eragon with a delighted smile on his face. "I am so glad you could have joined us for this."

With that, he turned to his father, and, still smiling, he uttered a single word. "Deyja."

A split second before his son had said the word, perhaps from the father-son bond that they never really had, Avon looked fearful. After that, he just look dead.

Horrified, Eragon looked at Scorpius, who was contemplating his father with narrowed eyes.

"No, no, no,' he muttered to himself, 'That will never do. It's a horrid sight indeed. Thaefathan!"

The corpse bulged and started to expand before Eragon's very own eyes. Avon's dead, glassy eyes bulged before they exploded in bits of white stuff and blood. The rest of his body followed in much the same way.

Completely disgusted and feeling sorry for Avon, who even in death had not had the respect every father had from his son, Eragon managed to croak out, "What did you do?"

With a satisfied smile on his face, Scorpius replied casually, "I cleaned the room up for it's new occupant."

Suddenly, Eragon felt fear. No… His eyes darted towards the door, which swung shut as Scorpius quickly left the room. How had Scorpius moved that fast?

The door slammed shut, at the same time slamming away his hopes.

He was trapped. Trapped in a room filled with bloody bits, hate, anger, devastation, fear and dashed hopes.

Eragon sank down to his knees, the hopelessness of the situation overwhelming him.

Staring at the red light above him, he allowed exhaustion to take him to a place where there was love, happiness, bravery, and hope.

_**A/N**_

I'm not that good at mushy scenes… If you didn't like anything about Brom's memories, do tell me. And I'm sorry for taking this long to update. Really, I am.

Anyway, THANKS to those FREQUENT reviewers, , for your reviews and ideas. But, you know, if there were more of you, I may just update faster… *HINT*

And for those kind reviewers who left me ideas for how the rest of the story will turn out, thanks. But I'm not really sure whether I'll go with it. This story isn't planned out yet so be patient with me. It _is_ my first fan fic, after all.

Again, PLEASE R&R. READ + REVIEW. Read and Review. Re- Okay. You probably get the point now… So… If you understand me, then go on, press the review button. Press it!!


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I am not, nor do I own, Christopher Paolini or any of the Inheritance Series. Though that'd be great… _

Just a short A/N here, I really wanna know what you all think about Brom's memories. I just really wanna write more about Brom's past, seeing as the past is related to the present and all that crap… So, please tell me.

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**Chapter 5**

When Eragon woke up, he couldn't see anything, but he could smell something really, really bad. The smell was worse than rotting meat and rotten eggs. It was all of that, plus fermented milk, left to rot in a damp cellar for years. It was all that and worse. There was really no word to describe this smell, a disgusting, completely horrifying smell that would haunt Eragon for years to come. No wonder he was awake.

"Kveykva," he muttered, glad that he felt more powerful than before he had rested. Emotionally, he was completely, utterly drained, and the smell didn't help any. Physically, he was better than he had been when he had been on track to be a simple farmer, but he was weaker than before the fight with the Urgals. And semi-emotional breakdowns don't help the physical state much, either.

Sighing, Eragon picked himself up from the floor, where he had fallen asleep, what was it, a day, an hour, ago? He stretched then searched for the words that would take the smell and the blood and the gore away. Those things really were impairing his fuzzy after-sleep brain cells.

After taking a deep breath of the now-clean air, Eragon looked at the bed, but decided against sitting on it. Just the thought of what Avon had gone through on that bed… It was too much.

Eragon frowned and cast his mind out, seeking for anything beyond the four red-tinted walls.

Nothing. For the second time in the short span of time that he had been awake, he sighed.

He let himself drop down to the floor, fighting off hunger and thirst as he wondered exactly how powerful Scorpius was. The foul brute had, according to his imploded father, knocked down the house and built it right back up. Eragon didn't think that he could do that, even with Saphira's added strength. Or perhaps he could, he wouldn't know; he'd never tried it before.

Scorpius had, obviously, successfully trapped Eragon in a room, most likely intended to kill him as well. And, at the rate Eragon was going, he would most likely succeed. Eragon also wondered about the most obvious question.

What the hell was he doing here?

Scorpius obviously liked Brom better than Avon, although the only time he'd met Brom he probably never remembered it. Taking that into account, he should probably treat Eragon a whole lot better! In his twisted freak of a mind, he was Eragon's brother! The thought made Eragon shudder and grimace.

And another obvious thought. How was he going to get out? He could always bash the blonde's head in with the door…That would be…gratifying, to say the least.

Or, the less violent approach, allow Scorpius to say something before bashing his head in.

All in all, these thoughts made for a pretty loaded morning. Or whatever time it was.

Just before Eragon's underfed, overworked brain went on strike, the dreaded, yet much missed door appeared and opened.

And the Scorpion entered the cell of the Dragon.

Looking like he'd had a perfectly good breakfast, Scorpius stood straight and tall, walking into the room with confidence that some would call misguided, but that which Eragon believed was completely called for.

Eragon's first thought when the door opened was to go for his first plan, which was to rush it, slam it open and bash the Scorpion's blonde head it.

Eragon tried not to be violent, but boys will be boys, and he was hungry.

Before he could carry out this satisfactory plan, the proud Scorpion closed the door. Gently, of course, like the perfect aristocratic gentlemen he acted like. Eragon still wanted to carry on with the plan, but the problem was that there was no more door with which to carry out the plan _with. _

Why had he closed the door?

"Insurance!" was the first word Scorpius uttered, as though he had heard what Eragon had thought.

Eragon raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Insurance because the door can only be summoned and opened by me, which means hurting me in any way is not really in your best interests." Scorpius clarified.

"Ah," Eragon said flatly, but saying nothing more.

He had expected as much; he wasn't a complete fool.

Scorpius stared curiously and rather rudely at Eragon. At last, after long minutes of returning Scorpius' gaze unrelentingly, Eragon could no longer stand it.

"What?" he said irritably.

Scorpius' stare intensified, though the look on his face turned bemused. Then he looked frustrated, and slightly angry. "How are you so calm?" he asked in a voice that clearly stated his confusion.

Eragon pretended to think seriously about this question, cocking his head to one side and placing his thumb and forefinger on his chin. "Hmm,' he said, 'I'm not sure. Maybe I'm on a sugar high."

Scorpius' brows furrowed deeper and he looked completely lose. "What are you talking about? You haven't had any sugar recently…' he frowned, 'Have you?"

The man had zero sense of humour. Holy shit.

Eragon stared at him incredulously for a while before shaking his head slowly. "You _are_ a piece of work," he observed.

The idiot Scorpion looked, if possible, even more confounded. He had zero social skills, didn't he?

Sighing internally, Eragon decided to make this a little easier for all of them, saving them both from unnecessarily frying some brain cells.

"What am I doing here?" Eragon asked, rolling his eyes slightly when Scorpius grinned widely as though he had been given a prize.

"Ah,' he said smugly, 'I was hoping you would ask me that."

Eragon had to exert all of his willpower to keep from rolling his eyes and bashing the fucker's head in. How on earth had he let himself get captured by this fool? He may have been powerful, and he may have been the chief of the village, but he was a complete and total idiot when it came to socializing and executing mad-man plans.

Eragon randomly wondered whether the rest of the village knew about their insane chief. Perhaps they openly supported him then laughed at his craziness behind his back. That's what he would have done.

Clasping his hands behind his back and pacing in what seemed like a purposefully pompous manner, Scorpius began speaking in his deep, smooth voice.

"You, Eragon Bromsson, and I, Scorpius Bromsson, share the same name. I refuse to have a brother. It's that simple."

Eragon was dumbfounded. "Why not just kill me? Or, better yet, keep your old name?" he had a feeling that arguing with this lunatic was pointless, but he was powerful, and Eragon was not fully recovered.

"But killing you straight out, Eragon Bromsson, would go against my principals! That would completely defeat the purpose of this room! There would be zero_ drama,' _he stressed this word, 'in killing you right off!" Scorpius looked hurt that Eragon would even suggest such a thing.

Eragon's jaw was open, allowing any flies in the air to fly right in and explore his open mouth. Lucky for him, there were no pests in the air. There was only one pest in the room, and Eragon was look right at it.

What the hell was wrong with the Scorpion?? On one hand he seemed like a brilliant, powerful being; on the other hand, he was completely loony! Eragon had no idea of what to make of it. He really didn't know what to do. He was lost, just totally, absolutely lost. He was out of his depth. He didn't know what to do when he was faced with a **CRAZY, HOMICADAL MANIAC**. It's not like he dealt with them on a regular basis.

"Anyway,' Scorpius went on cheerfully, unaware of the mess going on in Eragon's mind, 'What I'm going to do is let you stay here, until one day I feel bored or I get a new victim, depending on which comes first, and then I do to you what I did to my fa- Avon." He seemed to carefully shield his slip-up, allowing Eragon no chance of using Avon as a means to get to his crazy son.

But he tried anyway.

"Why are you so unwilling to accept Avon as your father? All he wanted was for you to grow up and become strong and be able to take care of the entire village. Heck, at one point, I'm sure it's what _you_ wanted! What's the problem, then? I mean, don't you _like _being strong like that?" Eragon said all this in a casually curious voice, doing his best to keep it from cracking or becoming desperate. He didn't show it, but he really was about to crack. And he was way desperate. He passed the thin line between desperate and hysterical the moment the door closed. He just didn't dare show it to Scorpius.

The smile on Scorpius' face froze, and though it didn't disappear, it seemed to be forced. "My father is Brom. There is nothing more that needs to be said." He said this in the same cheerful tone, but he sounded strained.

"But why?' Eragon persisted, 'I mean, Brom had his flaws as well. A lot of flaws, trust me,' he said, scoffing.

Scorpius, the crazy bastard, was still smiling, but it looked like it was painted on, the smile of a wax figure. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except that you will die, and I will not. Brom will take me as his son, not you. If you don't want to be fatherless, I suppose you could always take Avon as your father… I doubt he would mind…" his voice trailed off, a strange look appearing in his eyes.

Eragon stared for a while at Scorpius, completely thrown off. He really couldn't understand what was going on in Scorpius' head, and come to think of it, didn't really want to. Then something clicked.

"You're jealous, aren't you? You're being like, weird and possessive and stuff! You want Brom for your own!' Something else clicked. 'Are you gay?"

Scorpius flushed and the smile turned stretched, becoming completely forced and ugly. "No, Eragon Son-of-none, I am none of those things. Don't be a fool." A vein in his temple throbbed dangerously.

"Are you sure? I've got excellent gaydar, and you are really fashion conscious,' Eragon persisted, gesturing towards the blonde's colour coordinated dark brown breeches and white embroidered silk shirt, 'You should see a counselor or something. Tell you what, I happen to know of this counselor who-"

"Enough!' Scorpius roared, slamming his fist into the wall. "I am not gay! I will come back and continue this conversation when you have gotten your wits back with you, then I will end your life because I don't want a brother, especially not a younger, annoying one."

Here, Scorpius was wrong on both counts. Eragon's wits were not gone, and he would not end Eragon's life.

Scorpius turned around angrily and strode towards the door, which had reappeared. Eragon waited until Scorpius had opened the door before implementing his perfect plan. Bashing his head in with the door.

Eragon grabbed the back of Scorpius' rather ugly silk shirt and his neck, then slammed his head on the hard wooden door. The door cracked, but the Scorpion's head didn't, so Eragon did it again.

Scorpius moaned and started sliding down in Eragon's arms. But the fact that he could still moan meant he wasn't dead yet, and if he wasn't dead yet, he could still cause Eragon trouble. Hesitating only long enough to gather up his strength, he hoisted the man high enough to smash him fully against the door, though he applied more pressure towards his head. There was something strangely, immensely satisfying in hearing something on Scorpius' face crack.

Eragon dragged Scorpius out the still-open door and started ripping his ugly silk shirt apart into strips. Again, there was something immensely satisfying in tearing apart something of the Scorpion's.

After tying his hands behind his back securely using the silk strips, Eragon searched his mind for suitable words once more and turned the flimsy silk into thick ropes.

After making sure that there was no way Scorpius could escape from the bindings, Eragon pushed him roughly against the wall.

Only then did he realize that there was some strange voice in his head telling him to stop whatever the hell he was doing and answer her pleas.

He blinked. _Saphira?_

_Argh! What the bloody hell is wrong with you Eragon?!? I've been calling you for 10 minutes! It's not even like your mind is blocked, why have you been ignoring me?? _Saphira ranted angrily, practically screaming in his head.

_Oops? _Eragon said, wincing slightly at the anger in her voice.

_Oops? Oops? I haven't been able to contact you for five hours, and all you can say is oops?? _Saphira sounded completely hysterical, losing all self-control and screaming into Eragon's exhausted head.

Eragon sighed. If he didn't placate her soon, she'd do some really nasty things to him when they were flying. Quickly summoning the thoughts of his long time in the room, which had actually only been five short hours, he sent them towards Saphira, figuring that images were a lot faster than words.

_Okay, before you say anything, lemme explain. I was in the room, I am now out of the room. Where are you?_ Eragon said rather gruffly.

_You- you… _Saphira sounded shocked, then seemed to compose herself. _You had better explain yourself to me later. _

_Yeah, yeah. Where the hell are you? _Eragon asked again as he ran down the stairs. Then he realized why Saphira didn't bother to answer.

Looking as magnificent as ever, she had snaked her long, glittering neck into the foyer of the house, and had knocked over a small table with a vase of flowers while she was as it. Her large head had evidently struggled to get through the doorway and it had cracked and splintered, but had not been completely wrecked. The rest of her body had not managed to follow her head, so only her head rested on the floor of the foyer.

Eragon had never seen a more endearing sight.

He ran over to her and hugged her snout hard, putting all of his messed up emotions and breakdowns of the past 5 hours into the hug.

Saphira sighed and gently blew smoke out of her flared nostrils._ Little one, _she said affectionately, humming low in her throat.

Eragon allowed himself to relax into her warm snout for a while, then he drew back, determined to get rid of Scorpius, pushing his thoughts of rest into the back of his mind.

"We have to get rid of Scorpius,' he said grimly, 'I won't be able to rest just knowing that the crazy insect is alive and running around."

"Well,' came a familiar booming voice from the top of the stairs, 'I suppose you just won't be able to rest for a long, long time, Eragon Son-of-None."

The Scorpion was awake and prepared to kill.

Eragon swore, and sent a ball of blue fire towards him with one hand, pushing Saphira out the door with his other hand.

_Get outside and start wrecking the house. This house is freaking vile, I want it DOWN. _Eragon said urgently. _I'll distract him. Hurry. _

Without another word, but with a loud cracking sound, Saphira withdrew her head, and dislodged the entire doorframe.

"Hey! That's my door! What the hell did your dragon do to my door?" Scorpius cried indignantly, hurrying down the stairs.

The crazy insect had a wrathful dragon on his front door, and an angry Rider in his house, and he was worried about his door. Figures.

Eragon shook his head, then sent another ball of fire towards the descending man. This time, he didn't miss and the ball of fire connected with Scorpius' right arm.

He yelped and tumbled down the rest of the stairs. Eragon quickly drew his sword and rushed towards him, only to find himself face to face with a long rapier. How completely inappropriate for swordplay.

"Good thing I'm left-handed,' Scorpius quipped.

"You're using a crappy rapier; it doesn't matter what you use, you'll lose,' Eragon shot back.

Then Eragon swung Zar'roc and he found out that the rapier was much stronger than how it looked. Obviously, it had been magically enforced. Eragon persevered. He twisted, ducked and slashed at Scorpius' bare stomach, but he missed, because he was at a disadvantage facing the much longer weapon. Eragon scowled and leapt back a few paces.

Scorpius was already panting after only such a short bout with Eragon, and he looked crazier than ever. His hair was badly mussed up, and his eyes were deranged. His broken nose was bleeding down his face, dripping into his mouth. He looked like the complete opposite of the man that had oh-so-calmly entered Eragon's ex-cell earlier.

Eragon did not wait for Scorpius to recover; instead he hurriedly sheathed his sword and drew his bow. He needed something that would work long distance. Eragon didn't bother nocking an arrow; he used one made of blue fire.

He really _did_ like that spell.

However cool the fire was, it missed Scorpius by a hairsbreadth, because he had jumped to one side. He had jumped to one side and landed on the pile of broken wood and broken bits of vase and flowers that Saphira had made when she forced her way into the house. He shouted out in pain and curled up into a fetal position, clutching his finger.

"Ow! Goddamn splinters!" he screamed in anger.

Eragon could only hold his bow and stare in disbelief at the blonde. He had nearly died; the fire had singed his hair even, and he was complaining about a splinter. Scorpius had seriously fucked up priorities.

If Eragon had stood like that just another moment, Scorpius would have gotten up and sent his massive powers over to Eragon in the form of his own silver fire, and that would have been the end of Eragon. Luckily, the Fates preferred Eragon over the insect, and the ground rumbled, sending Eragon out of his reverie into action.

_That was me, by the way. I suggest you get out now, but try leaving the bastard in there. _Saphira suggested. Eragon agreed wholeheartedly with everything she said, even if he was slightly surprised at her use of foul language. But it was true, anyway. Scorpius didn't really have a father now.

Sending more fire arrows at Scorpius without looking at him, Eragon sprinted for the door. Just a second after he got out, the house collapsed.

It wasn't a slow process, Saphira made sure of that. She had located the pressure points at the base of the house and had weakened them, making the house unstable. She had then melted as much of the house as possible, which was what caused the rumbling. Then the house had just totaled. The base creaked, then fell, weakened without their supports. Then the roof, which Saphira quickly put on fire, started to burn, then collapsed as well.

In seconds, the house was in ruins, and on fire as well.

Eragon heard a shrill scream from inside the house, then it was suddenly cut off. Eragon felt the slightest, smallest bit of guilt, and he pushed it aside, telling himself that the insect wasn't worth it. Then guilt suddenly won, because Eragon wasn't evil.

He was about to run back into the house, and pull the bastard out, going against all of his better instincts, but it wasn't Saphira who stopped him, it was one of the guards.

A tall, dark and burly guard placed his hand on Eragon's shoulder. In a deep, gruff voice, the guard said, "Don't bother about him. It's about time we get out of his shadow."

Eragon turned to face the guard. "Who are you to decide that?' he asked quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the crackling of the fire.

"I am the son of the man he put to death for refusing to kiss his ass,' the guard said with a sad chuckle, 'he killed my father because Dad refused to bow down to him,' he shook his head in disgust. I don't want to protect him, but I couldn't quit, this job was all I had to take care of my mother and my wife and kids."

"Alright. I accept that. But who are you to decide what's good for the rest of the village? I admit, the man is crazy, but he is all you have. And I won't just simply let a man die," Eragon said stubbornly.

Spreading his arms out, his broadsword in one hand, the guard gestured to all of the guards gathered around him, to all of the people who had left the sanctuary of their homes. "I'm not the one who decided this. _**We **_are the ones who decided this. I am the leader of the guards, but I make no claim over the village. I, just like them, am a villager fighting for survival."

Eragon glanced over at the strong fire burning on behind him, then at the tentatively hopeful sea of faces in front of him. He glanced at Saphira, who agreed with his thoughts.

"You speak great words of wisdom for a mere captain. What is your name?" Eragon asked.

The large man blushed and said embarrassedly, 'My name is Dane Smithsson. And those words are not really mine; my father taught them to me from a young age,' he shrugged, 'I took over his words when I took over his job."

"Well, Dane, your father was a wise man, I hope you are too," and before Dane could react, Eragon turned to the crowd in front of him and addressed them.

"Villagers of Yazuac!' he shouted, 'Scorpius is dead and gone! He has no child, and you need a chief. I have spoken with Captain Dane, and I think he is an excellent man to fill in the shoes of chief. What say you, villagers of Yazuac?"

The roar of approval that thundered much louder than the crackling of flames confirmed what Eragon thought. Dane was obviously a well-liked man, and loyal. Eragon had barely met the man five minutes ago, but Dane radiated a quiet power, one that made people feel respect rather than fear towards him. He kept the job, though he obviously hated that he was supposed to protect the man who had killed his father, just to make enough to support his family. He was filial, then. And he was modest, but clever. He said that his father had taught him that line, but he had accepted it and used it to shape his life.

Eragon had barely met the man five minutes ago, but anyone who met him could tell that he would be a wonderful chief. He smiled and quieted the crowd again, quickly crawling up onto Saphira, pulling a dumbstruck Dane up with him.

"Then, by the power invested in me as a Rider, I give you your new chief, Dane Smithsson, and may he be a better chief than the one before him!" Eragon wasn't sure whether he had the power to make someone chief of a village, but the villagers didn't need to know that.

Eragon turned to Dane and leaned in closer, so that he would be heard over the exuberantly loud villagers.

"Do not take this job lightly, Dane. Use your head and your heart in equal measures, be firm but not harsh. Take care of the villagers, but don't neglect your family." Then Eragon smiled and clasped his hand as Saphira roared triumphantly, drowning out even the massive, ever-enlargening crowd. And as an afterthought, Eragon said, 'Just saying, but I wouldn't bother rebuilding this house. I'd built a park over it, if I were you."

Dane smiled weakly. "I- I'm just a guard, Dragon Rider. How can you expect me to take care of the village when I can barely take care of myself?" he stammered.

Eragon looked up at the sky, smiling lightly as the gentle breeze caressed his face. "I know that you can do this, because I am a Rider, and I can see that you care deeply for this village. Just listen to advice, but don't follow all advice. Take support from your friends and family, and don't put yourself a step above them," he suggested.

A sudden look of confidence and something Eragon couldn't recognize flared up in Dane's eyes. Dane smiled and turned to face the villagers from high up on his perch on Saphira's back.

"People of Yazuac!' he boomed, 'Scorpius, the vile wretch, is dead! His home is burning, and so is he. I am now your chief, and I sincerely hope for your full support. The first thing I will ask for your help in is to put out the fire around this house, but leave it burning. Do not allow the fire to spread to innocent parties. Thank you." And then the crowd was laughing and rushing to get buckets of water and sand. Even the thought of hard work couldn't spoil their jubilation at finally being out of Scorpius' control.

Eragon had raised eyebrows at the strange political speech that had come out of Dane's mouth, and he would have commented upon it, but when Dane turned to face him, Eragon finally realized what the look in his eyes was.

It was a look of acceptance of his responsibilities, and fierce determination to carry them out to the best of his abilities.

Eragon smiled and said to Saphira, _I think I made the right decision, what do you think?_

Saphira snorted and said, _Well, it's not like you could have done anything else. You couldn't exactly have made yourself chief, could you?_

_That's true. I just hope he'll make a good chief. _

Eragon jumped off Saphira's back and walked towards Dane as fast as he could, which wasn't that fast because the villagers kept stopping him to greet him and thank him. Eragon felt frustrated but he wouldn't let it show.

When at last he reached Dane, who was directing the people, he tapped him on the shoulder. Dane turned his head but didn't stop talking to the man in front of him. He held up a finger towards Eragon as a gesture for him to wait as he finished giving instructions to the man, who appeared to be the one in charge of controlling fires. When he was done, he turned completely towards Eragon and said, "What can I do for you, Rider? The whole village is at your feet because of what you have done for us. What you want, you can have."

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Eragon said brusquely, "I need supplies. That's why I came here in the first place anyway. I need meat, bread and other dried things that can last for a long while. I'll also need water. I want to leave as soon as possible; I have unfinished business to attend to."

Dane raised his eyes at Eragon's sudden mood swing, but made no comment upon it. Instead, he just said simply, "I will have your supplies brought to you within the hour. And there will, of course, be no charge."

"Thank you," Eragon said as sincerely as possible, even though he felt extremely impatient and wanted to leave. Dane nodded and walked away.

Eragon walked back towards Saphira and clambered back up onto her back. He could feel her worry and confusion radiating from her in gusts, but she was patient enough to wait until they were alone to ask. Saphira was also observant enough to notice that Eragon seemed very tense, so she got up and walked towards a large alleyway; big enough for her to slide her long neck in comfortable. Eragon relaxed into the crook of her neck, where the hustle and bustle of the busy village was lessened and he didn't have to pretend to be cheerful and proud.

The only problem was that when he relaxed, his wild thoughts returned. Unanswered questions, questions where he had answers, but couldn't get to at the moment. He felt thoroughly frustrated at that, and not being able to fly away.

He closed his eyes, not bothering to fight the questions anymore. Why had Brom left him? What had he done that had been so bad he didn't want Eragon to know? What had happened to Selena? How had she fallen in love with Morzan in the first place? How _could_ she have fallen in love with Morzan in the first place? And then, there was the question of why he had been named Eragon. This, Eragon could guess at the answer. He suspected that Selena had felt his being born had been a new beginning, like the first Eragon had been the first. Perhaps she had named him Eragon in the hopes that he would be able to overthrow Galbatorix… Here Eragon stopped himself. He was going way too far.

And then… There was Scorpius. Eragon raised his eyes towards the light blue sky that was rather obscured by the smoke. That blonde brought on even more questions than Brom. How could he treat his father like that? Eragon had said it himself to Avon, but he didn't really believe it. No son, as Eragon had found out, could truly hate their father for something he thought he was doing right. There would be bitterness, a whole lot of bitterness, and anger. Frustration at the unfairness of it; all these emotions would be directed at Avon, but it wasn't enough to make a man stick his father in a pitch black room for who knows how long, starving him then killing him.

No, either Scorpius was sick in the head, or he had gone through a lot more from Avon than he let on. If it was the latter, or even the former, then Eragon could not really find it in his heart to hate the man. He had enough experience to know that hating someone was truly pointless. The doing was the thing. Hating Brom had brought him nothing but pain and trouble.

Brom… Again, everything came back to Brom. If Brom had even gone back to Yazuac just once, this might not have happened. He had done what he had done in the hopes that the spell would work perfectly. He had not counted on Avon speeding things up and causing the spell to go out of control. He had not taken precautions, and he had not come back to check. And then Eragon wondered whether his sudden anger at Brom had to do with this situation, or with how he had left Selena behind.

Eragon shook his head, trying to calm himself down. There was no point harping on that any longer; it was not truly Brom's fault. But the very thought of his mother suffering those nine months without the man she loved made his fists clench of their own accord.

_Little one…_ Saphira said gently, soothingly, and saying nothing more. Those two words almost immediately calmed Eragon with a jolt. Just those five hours away from Saphira, and he had forgotten how it was like to be closely connected to another being. Eragon chuckled lowly as he realized that this was the closest he had ever been to another female, even though it was technically not the same thing. They shared thoughts; they shared everything. He had even slept with her!

These strange thoughts caused Saphira to laugh in her strange way as well. _Eragon, _she said wryly, _I feel embarrassed just to be hearing this from you. Have these five hours apart made you forget that I am privy to everything that goes on in your head? _

Eragon grinned, blushing slightly. _It was just a thought, _he said nonchalantly. _Anyway… I've missed you, Saphira. _He smiled fondly.

_I've missed you too. Do you have any idea how worried I was when I lost all contact with you? I was running around that house, calling out for you, and scaring everyone who was around. I tried bashing the house, but nobody came out, __and I was afraid of crushing you if you were still in there, so I communicated with Dane. Yea, _she said, in answer to Eragon's surprise, _I had already spoken to him before you met him. He told me that strange things happened in that house, and that Scorpius was not a good person, not a good chief. He went in to help me ask about you, but then I heard that Scorpion shout about how it wasn't any business of a mere guard what a Rider did, and then I heard screams of pain and then Dane came out, looking shaken. I didn't ask him to go in again. _

_I still felt worried, but I assumed that Scorpius wasn't lying, so I just sat outside and waited. And waited, and waited. Five bloody hours of non-contact, Eragon. If you had really been just ignoring me, I would have slaughtered you when you came out. As it was, the moment I could feel you again, I forced my head through, and then I saw you. _Saphira suddenly growled. _I had forced my head through and I was talking to you for ten minutes before I realized you weren't listening to me. What on earth were you doing?_

_I was ah… _Eragon said awkwardly, _I was tying Scorpius up angrily, _and then he braced himself for the definite onslaught that was going to come from Saphira.

_You were what?! _She exploded. Eragon winced, as did the people who were still milling around watching the fire, because she had shouted the thought out at the whole village. You could probably have heard her from all the way back in Carvahall.

_I was tying him up, _he said meekly.

_So, you tied him up, spending t__en whole minutes to do so, whilst ignoring me, and then after that he still managed to escape. Either he's extremely powerful, Eragon, or you need to learn how to tie knots. _Saphira said, clearly angry and taking out her anger by insulting him.

Eragon knew that he deserved her anger, and fueling it was probably going to be dangerous, but he just had to point out something to her. _He can use magic, Saphira, _he said pointedly.

_Then why bother tying him up? _Saphira growled.

Eragon sighed and conceded defeat. There was no possible way he could win this argument. There was no arguing with a stubborn and resentful Saphira. So he did what anyone with brains would do in that moment. _I'm really sorry. I guess I just got caught up in my 'revenge', if you could call it that. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. _He apologized like a man.

_Thank you. _Saphira huffed. She would probably have said more, but he saw Dane approaching them, holding several large cloth bags in his arms.

Eragon leapt off Saphira, glad that there was something to distract her from her nagging.

_I heard that, _she growled.

Eragon winced as he remembered that their bond had gotten much stronger after _they_ had gotten stronger. His every thought was hers, and vice versa. _I am not 'such a man', _he scowled at her, earning a chuckle from her, then he turned to Dane.

Dane helped tie the cloth bags securely to Saphira's wide neck silently. His somber expression alerted Eragon to the turmoil likely raging in Dane's head. He did not try to probe his mind; he already had too much respect for the man to do so. Instead, he did what a normal person to do. He used his mouth to ask.

Dane leaned against the wall and sighed. "I'm glad that Scorpius is gone, yes, and I am glad that he is no longer chief, but… I really don't know whether I can do this. It's a very large responsibility you have placed upon my shoulders, Rider."

Eragon chose his words carefully, aware that a wrong word might bring the big man's world down. "I know it's a large responsibility, but if I'm not mistaken, the chief does not do much. You basically just have to continue doing what you are already doing, which is protecting the village, but you just have to be more aware of what goes on in the village. It _is _a big responsibility, but you have already been carrying it out for a long time. As the chief, you just have to make sure that you can protect the village. Just carry on doing what you've been doing; you've already proven yourself worthy."

Eragon could literally see the burden being lifted off Dane's shoulders as he spoke. Whereas minutes ago he had been hunched and worried, now he seemed to regain the confidence that he had had while standing on Saphira. Eragon felt compelled to say, "Just… Just keep you confidence up, alright? Stop being so unsure of yourself. As I've said earlier, you will make a great chief. You already have the approval of the entire village, anyway,' Eragon shrugged.

Dane nodded slowly, a slow confident smile spreading over his face. "Thank you, Rider."

Eragon could understand exactly what he meant with those two words. Thank you for getting rid of Scorpius, thank you for making me chief. Thank you for giving me advice and giving me confidence. Thank you. "Call me Eragon," he smiled back.

Dane looked at Eragon in surprise. "Okay… Eragon," he said, grinning widely.

_Eragon… We should go now… There are people starting to gather. _Saphira said tersely.

And so there was. The villagers seemed to want to come closer, but didn't have the nerve to do so.

Eragon glanced over at Saphira and nodded. Dane seemed to understand and just said, "Go, Eragon. Kill Galbatorix and make Alagaesia safe for us."

Eragon looked at Dane for a moment, then he realized that there were no more words that he needed, or could, say. He didn't really know who Dane was, but he knew that there was now a bond between them. Nothing needed to be said.

Eragon gave a short nod to Dane then turned around and quickly climbed back onto Saphira, shifting the cloth bags to make room for himself.

Saphira started backing out of the alleyway, forcing the villagers who were clustered around them to hastily back away.

Eragon looked back at them just once more, gave a wave of farewell to Dane, and then Saphira leapt up off the ground into the sky.

When Eragon looked back down again, the villagers were the size of dolls, and the fire blazing away looked like a campfire.

_So, where to next then? _Saphira's spirits were obviously bolstered by her joy in being up in the air. Eragon relished in the feeling of the cold air as well.

_Gil'ead. I think it's about three or four days journey if we don't stop too much. I don't want to stop at Daret. It's too dangerous. Is that alright with you?_ Eragon wasn't sure if Saphira could take flying for such long periods.

_I am much, much stronger than I was when I dragged Garrow to Carvahall, remember? I can definitely fly for long periods of time; I am a dragon after all. That's what we are made to do. Don't worry about me, little one, I'll be fine, _Saphira said confidently.

_Okay. So… To Gil'ead, then, to save the elf. _

Then Eragon strapped himself into the saddle, and dozed fitfully: his dreams kept taking him back to Brom's memories, always the part where Brom refused to keep him.

When Eragon woke up with a start for the fifth time, it was dark. _Let's stop, _he said shakily, for his last dream had been that of Avon's death and how he had been…disposed of.

Saphira knew exactly what he had been dreaming about, so she did not refuse, but just glided down towards a swath of trees where there was room enough for her, but close enough to give good shelter.

Eragon forced his memories and dreams away, forcing himself to eat a sandwich that consisted of meat and bread. After that, he crawled under Saphira's wings, grateful that Saphira had not pressed him for details. He couldn't deal with that at the moment. He snuggled into her side, pressing himself against her warmth as she hummed him to sleep.

_A pale, raven-haired beauty __seemed to be staring up at him. Eragon was immediately entranced by her beauty, but as he looked closer, he could see her pointed ears and obviously weakened state. She was an elf. Arya. He didn't know why he knew that, he just did. She had to be. He saw that she was in a small stone cell with only a small cot in it; there was not even a window there. The door was made of metal, and there was a small slot there, presumably for food. Eragon stared at her, drinking her in with his eyes. She looked like she had been tortured physically and mentally, but she looked like none of it affected her. _

_Awed by her strength, Eragon could only stare at her. He could see that she had broken bones, but she seemed untroubled by them. He could see the deep, dark pain in her black eyes, pain that he would never know, because he would have been dead by the time that much pain could be inflicted on him._

_He tried to speak, but only managed to emit a single word. "Arya," he breathed. _

_Her eyes snapped open wider__ and she looked shocked. "Who's there?" she didn't sound afraid, but forceful. _

The next thing Eragon knew, he was awake, gasping for breath and sweating. There was a single question that pounded insistently in his mind. _What the hell?_

_

* * *

_

A/N: I know… I know… This chapter is rather strange… But all will be revealed in due time, I promise… And, to those who might think so, this chapter is NOT redundant. So, anyway, next chapter… Definitely time for Arya to make her second appearance... Yay Arya!

Again, thank to my all my lovely reviewers, especially Platypus Caper. Your long reviews make me smile wider than Scorpius.

Actually… ALL reviews make me smile wider than Scorpius… Hehe…

My exams start like… TODAY. So I have no freaking idea why I wanted to update so fast… If I fail, I'm blaming you guys cause you made me wanna update really fast…


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: No Copyright infringement is intended. I own nothing of the Inheritance Cycle nor am I Christopher Paolini. The only things I own are my ideas and the clothes on my back. Oh yeah, and my ass, so don't burn it for playing in Eragon's world.

**Chapter 6**

Eragon gasped for breath; he felt as though he had just been forced to stay underwater for a long time. He sweat as though he had just run a mile and his heart pumped as though he had run two miles. _What… What the hell was that? _He felt totally bewildered.

Saphira must have felt his raw emotions because she stirred from her deep slumber. Lifting a wing to let Eragon out, she stretched out her neck and said sleepily, _what__'__s wrong, Eragon?_

Grimly, Eragon sent his memories of his…dream, for lack of a better word, over to Saphira.

Saphira tensed for a moment, then she asked worriedly, _It is Arya, then?_

_I don__'__t know! I don__'__t know whether that was just a dream, or something else. If it was a dream, then it can__'__t be Arya, because I don__'__t know what she looks like. But maybe it__'__s Brom__'__s memories messing with mine… But it seemed so…vivid, so real… Maybe I was seeing the future? _Eragon said, almost hopefully. Seeing the future would certainly be very helpful to him.

_But, _Saphira mused, _if you were seeing the future, how could she have responded? It seems more like…like you were talking to her…in your sleep. But is that even possible? Communicating with another while you are asleep, I mean. _

_I don__'__t know… I__'__ve never heard of such stories before, though there are many things that about Riders that are not very well-known, Maudiso, for example… Riders are actually a rather secretive bunch, _Eragon sounded almost surprised.

Saphira rolled her eyes. _I think we need to confirm whether it really _is_ Arya before we start jumping to conclusions, though. What made you think she was Arya anyway?_

_I don__'__t know. _Eragon frowned. _It just seemed to pop in my head. Her name just…it came to me, and I just knew it was Arya. _

Saphira was silent for awhile then she said, _It__'__s definitely possible that it__'__s Arya, but you need to check. Who knows, maybe it__'__s an enemy trying to get into your head!_

Eragon raised his eyebrows skeptically. _That__'__s going a bit far, don__'__t you think?_

_We__'__re talking about Galbatorix, Eragon. Nothing is impossible. _

Eragon rolled his eyes. _Okay, fine. I__'__ll check Brom__'__s memories. _

Leaning comfortably against Saphira's warm side, Eragon allowed his mind to relax and then he started looking through Brom's memories, searching for any reference to Arya.

* * *

"_Arya Dröttningu,__'__ Brom said formally, __'__could you give a minute? I have some things I need to discuss with you." Because Eragon was now Brom, and Brom was him, Eragon knew that Arya and Brom were beyond these formalities, but they maintained them for appearances sake. They were more like the father Arya never had, and the daughter Brom never really had._

_Arya nodded regally and said to her guards, Fäolin and Glenwing, "I will meet up with you again later." She was tall and slim, with a beauty that the women of Carvahall would never have, because they were human. Eragon compared her with the elf he had seen in his dream, and he concluded that she was in worse shape than he assumed. Here, in Brom__'__s memories, she looked healthy, full of vitality. In his dream, she was thin and frail, on the verge of death. _

_Eragon watched on as Glenwing started to walk off but stopped when he realized Fäolin was not moving. He was staring at Arya, obviously using their minds to speak. Arya__'__s eyebrow twitched, and he seemed to relent. His slender shoulders shrugged and he tucked a strand of her black hair behind her ear before turning around and walking off. Glenwing just shook his head and followed._

_Brom and Arya watched the two elves retreating backs before Arya said, "Come, we__'__ll speak in the library."_

_They walked towards the library in a comfortable silence, but Brom felt inclined to break it anyway. "What was that about?"_

_Arya sighed slightly. With a resigned look on her face, she said, "Fäolin doesn__'__t like me going around Farthen Dûr alone. Alone as in, without any guards. He doesn__'__t trust anyone,__'__ she said with a shrug, __'__but that__'__s what makes him one of the best warriors in Ellesméra."_

_Seeing the questioning look on Brom__'__s face, "Oh, he trusts you, but he just doesn__'__t like me walking around dangerous spots without… him…" her voice trailed off._

"_Farthen Dûr can hardly be considered a dangerous spot,__'__ Brom remarked, __'__isn__'__t he being a little overprotective? And, I _can _be trusted to take care of you. He can__'__t expect to be able to follow you everywhere." _

"_Like I said, he trusts you. Other than my mother and I, he trusts only a few people. You should be honoured,__'__ Arya blatantly ignored Brom__'__s snort, __'__that he includes you among that category. If he didn__'__t trust you, he__'__d be walking around with me right now."_

_Brom raised his eyebrows and said, "You didn__'__t answer the only question I asked you."_

_Arya blushed brightly, making Eragon feel a sudden leap in his heart that died down completely when he heard her said, "Yes. He__'__s overprotective, but that__'__s one of the things I love about him, after all."_

_Brom sighed and stepped through the carved arch of the library, leading her to a secluded corner where they could speak without being overheard. But he still cast a small ward, to prevent them from being eavesdropped on, magically or not. _

"_Arya,__'__ Brom said slowly, __'__I__'__m going to ask you to do something for the Varden, and the elves both, but I want you to keep in mind that you can, in fact, say no."_

_Arya smirked slightly. She knew that he knew that she never refused to do anything to help her people and the Varden. That__'__s why she had been such a great ambassador for-_

"_55 years, Arya. Elves live very, very long lives, but even that can hardly be counted as a short span of time. When are you going to make up with your mother?" Brom looked rather sad as he said this. _

_Arya__'__s entire demeanor hardened as soon as her mother was mentioned. "It is not I who refused to speak to the other. It is not I who took an anthill and turned it into the Beor Mountains. Taking the yawë and serving as an ambassador to my people is not wrong. It is _not _too dangerous for a princess. The queen,__'__ Arya said coldly, __'__does not wish to acknowledge my presence for as long as I remain in Farthen Dûr. _

_Brom stared at Arya curiously for a moment, then he burst out laughing. _

"_What__'__s so funny?" Arya did not feel like laughing in the least. _

_Wiping his eyes as he attempted to stop his chuckles, he gasped out, "You must be…the only ambassador I have ever met… that has an ambassador to relay information to the queen."_

_Arya thought about this for a second, then allowed a small smile to spread across her face. Eragon would have gasped if he could. She looked amazingly beautiful when she smiled. _

"_It _does_ seem pretty funny when you put it that way," Arya admitted ruefully. _

"_Anyway,__'__ Brom said in a serious tone, __'__What I wanted to speak to you about is that egg."_

_The smile slipped off Arya__'__s face and a scowl replaced it. "I know you think the humans deserve a chance to have a Rider, and I don__'__t disagree. But you must remember that Galbatorix is human as well. I doubt all this would have happened if he were an elf. The elves are not going to trust humans anymore. There is just far too much at stake."_

_Brom nodded, he had expected this argument. That__'__s why he had the perfect counter-argument. "Certainly, the elves will make excellent Riders. After all, the first Rider was an elf too. But, this…abomination, Galbatorix, is human, and humans alone are responsible for him. We would feel slighted if we didn__'__t get a chance to destroy Galbatorix ourselves."_

_Arya__'__s scowl deepened. "Killing Galbatorix is hardly a matter of honour! Does it really matter who kills him as long as he lies dead at our feet? Killing Galbatorix is a matter of necessity. Would you let Galbatorix live a few more years just so that a weak human Rider could slowly train up to be powerful enough? Dwarves might not, but humans should value their lives over their honour."_

"_Also,__'__ Brom continued as though he had not heard Arya, __'__Elf children are extremely rare. It might take even longer to find a Rider, thus prolonging Galbatorix__'__s evil life even longer. It__'__s far more likely that the egg will hatch for an elf, but the time wasted while waiting could be fatal. We have to atone for our own wrongs, if that is even possible."_

_Arya looked frustrated. "And what happens if the egg _does _hatch for a human? This is one of the last eggs in existence. What happens if the human is just as unstable as Galbatorix? Alagaesia cannot handle another Galbatorix. We must have an elf Rider, if not for honour than for the sake of Galbatorix__'__s death."_

"_And it would be thoroughly unfair for the human race. We are part of the magic; we have just as much right to the title of Rider as an elf. And, in case you forgot, the only reason we have the egg anyway is because of a human," Brom reminded her. _

_Staring at the ornately carved armrest, Arya looked tired. "There is no fair way to decide this, is there?"_

"_Well, actually…__'__ Brom said slyly, __'__That__'__s what I came to talk to you about. I think I__'__ve thought of a compromise that even the elves will be happy about."_

_Arya raised her eyebrows at Brom as a sign for him to continue. _

"_I propose that every year the egg be taken to a different location. It will spend one year here in Farthen Dûr and if the egg does not hatch, you can bring it to Ellesméra. There it will be for one year. If it doesn__'__t hatch, then let it be brought back here. That way, at least both sides will have a chance," Brom said, obviously pleased with himself._

_Arya__'__s eyebrows slanted downwards. She seemed to be deep in thought. After a long while, she finally spoke. "I think it will be accepted. They won__'__t like it one bit, but it will be accepted. And,__'__ Arya__'__s eyes twinkled, __'__am I to assume that the aforementioned plan will be carried out by me?" _

_Brom inclined his head. "If you accept."_

"_Do you even need to bother asking? You knew I__'__d accept. Besides, it__'__s getting rather boring to be stuck here year after year. I__'__ve actually spent more time with humans than elves." Arya sounded rather sad. _

"_You__'__ve had Fäolin and Glenwing. They are good elves and both older than you by many years. It__'__s better to have the company of a few true elves than the company of many false ones," Brom told her. _

_Arya smiled again, a true, happy smile this time. "Yes. I__'__ve had Fäolin."_

_Brom hesitated, then dared ask, "So when will the two of you be joined in marriage?"_

_Arya shot him a look that clearly said, _It's none of your business.

_And because Brom enjoyed teasing her, he said, "Since you__'__ll be back in Ellesméra next year, will you finally tell your mother about him then?"_

_Arya looked at him exasperatedly and said slowly, "I don__'__t think my mother will approve. He is a guard, I am a princess. Unfortunately, there are no elf princes, if there were, I__'__d be committing incest anyway, so I have no idea who she would approve. Perhaps if Fäolin were a duke…" Arya said thoughtfully. _

_Brom laughed and said, "If he were a duke, you would never have been interested in him in the first place."_

"_True," Arya admitted. _

"_Anyway, we should go tell Ajihad about this. I expect that the elves are getting impatient while we argue over this, no?" Brom smiled and got to his feet. "Oh, and I do hope the queen won__'__t get angry at me for giving you another dangerous job. I__'__m actually rather scared of her."_

"_Oh, she__'__ll be mad, but not at you. It__'__s me she__'__ll ignore another 50 years," Arya said dismissively. _

_Brom shook his head at her as they walked out of the library. "I honestly don__'__t understand elves."_

"_We__'__re a rather complex species. Few understand us. We often don__'__t understand each other as well. That__'__s why human and elf relationships are rare. It__'__s hard enough for all of you to understand a human, much less an elf," Arya said casually. _

"_So, what__'__re you saying? You would never hook up with a human? Not even a human Rider?" Brom asked skeptically. _

"_I__'__m saying no, and no. My life is complicated enough. And if my mother won__'__t even accept an elf, what do you think her reaction to me being with a human is going to be?"_

_Brom and Arya stopped short and started laughing as they imagined Islanzadí__'__s reaction. _

_

* * *

_With a fierce yank, Eragon withdrew his mind from the memory. He stared at the ground blindly, his jaw hard and clenched.

_Eragon, now is not the time. _Saphira said warningly.

_Fine, _he spat bitterly.

_I know you like how she looks, but what did you expect from her? You haven__'__t even met her before! Not to mention, you weren__'__t even out of diapers back then! She was old before you were born, Eragon. _Saphira said sternly. _And don__'__t even think about leaving her there just because you feel angry. She is still an elf, and if you don__'__t save her, Galbatorix will break her, and the elves will not be safe any longer. _

Eragon took a deep breath, closed his eyes and then opened them again. He pulled a canteen of water out of the bags on Saphira and took a long drink. Then he put it back and clambered up onto Saphira's back. _Let__'__s go save the elf, _he muttered harshly.

Saphira didn't like how he was acting, but she knew that he just needed time. It was the first woman he had felt an attraction to, and he had just heard her say that her heart belonged to another. To be honest, Saphira didn't know what he was so mad about. It wasn't like Arya, who was a princess of all things, had promised her heart to him. She concluded that he must just be jealous of that Fäolin person, and angry that he had lost to an elf.

Humans, in her opinion, were stranger than elves. Saphira rolled her eyes at the tense Rider on her back and just continued flying.

Eragon tried not to fall asleep because he didn't want to dream of Arya again. He tried everything, from pinching himself to looking through all of Brom's vocabulary, but the blanketing darkness, gentle winds and the sound of Saphira's rhythmic flapping made it hard for him to resist his closing eyes. Twice he snapped them open after he almost succumbed to sleep, but by the fifth time his eyes closed of their own accord, he could no longer help himself. He fell asleep, praying, as he did so, that he would not dream of the elf.

But alas, life is never fair, and the Sandman will never let us off that easily.

_She was still in the prison cell, in almost the exact same position as when Eragon had first seen her. The only difference was that her broken arm and fingers had been healed. They were no longer bent at an impossible angle, but they were now covered in half-healed cuts and bruises. Her eyes rolled in their sockets fitfully as she slept, and a light sheen of sweat covered her body. _

_Nightmare, Eragon concluded. If she hadn__'__t looked so…hurt, Eragon would probably have smiled in satisfaction at the pain she was feeling. But even after all the things she had probably gone through to protect her fellow elves, Eragon could not call her pitiful. Even in fitful, nightmare-plagued sleep she looked regal. He had never met any other elves, but he was doubtful that they were anywhere near as exquisite as she was. _

_He looked at her bruised face and realized he was wrong about all her broken bones being mended. Her broken nose was still bleeding, in fact._

_White hot anger shot through Eragon as he wondered how he would kill the person who had caused such suffering to her. He shook his head in an attempt to calm himself and the movement, strangely, seemed to awaken Arya from her nightmare. _

_She opened her eyes slowly and revealed eyes that were actually a deep, dark green that looked black because of her inner turmoil. Arya looked around the cot sharply and said, "Who__'__s there?" in exactly the same tone as the last dream. _

_Again, Eragon tried to speak, but before even a squeak could escape him, the metal door made a high screech of metal and Arya quickly sat up. A tall, thin man dressed in a long black cloak entered the cell, flanked by two burly guards. His hair and eyes were the colour of rubies, of blood. Red. His skin was chalk white, a harsh contrast against his dark cloak. _

_Eragon shivered. He had heard enough stories to know that this was a Shade. _

_In a silky smooth voice, the Shade said, "Well, elf, I see you are awake." His eyes gleamed in anticipation of what was to come next. _

_Arya stiffened but did not draw back. Eragon knew that she would not allow herself to show pain, no matter what the Shade did to her. _

_The Shade withdrew a long branding iron in the shape of claws out of his cloak. A simple word, Brisingr, and then the iron glowed red-hot. The Shade walked slowly towards the elf, a slightly amused smile playing on his thin lips. "Are you ready for today__'__s events, elf?"_

_Arya chose to ignore him, instead staring defiantly into his crimson eyes. _

_The Shade did not seem to care for a reply anyway, for he went on regardless. "First, I__'__m going to brand you. And not just once either, so don__'__t think you__'__re going to get off that easily. After I brand you repeatedly, I__'__m going to play with your broken nose. And if I feel like it, I might just break your arms. Again. That__'__s the only reason I healed them anyway. Although, I don__'__t think I__'__ve broken your legs before, have I?" The Shade said thoughtfully. _

_Still defiant, Arya shot out, "Do your worst, Shade. I will never break. Especially not at the hands of someone like you."_

_The Shade chuckled lightly, exposing his sharpened teeth, and did not seem at all offended. On the contrary, he seemed rather pleased. "Ah, you speak, elf. And there I was thinking that you kept silent because you couldn__'__t speak, when you had just been defying all of us. Pity, you could have saved yourself so much pain. It was rather foolish of you as well. Oh well, that will just make it so much more fun, won__'__t it. It will be my personal mission to make you scream. I__'__ve never heard you scream before and now I know why. Average torture is simply not enough on a specimen like you. No matter, I will think up new, much more painful methods."_

_With that, he started advancing on Arya. The two guards automatically went forwards to hold Arya in place. It was obviously routine; Arya didn__'__t even bother fighting back. She knew it was hopeless, no doubt having tried to escape many times previously. _

_Eragon felt sickened as he watched the three men bear down on Arya simultaneously. He felt like screaming himself as he watched the burning brand sizzle on Arya__'__s arm. He felt like throwing up when he saw how the Shade grabbed her arm and twisted it hard, breaking the bone and using it as leverage to slam her face against the wall. He felt like crying when the Shade made good on his word and broke Arya__'__s right leg. He grabbed her slim leg in two hands and snapped it as easily as you would a thin branch. Most of all, he felt like killing the Shade. He wouldn__'__t do it quickly; no, he deserved a slow, excruciatingly painful death, he deserved a taste of his own medicine before he died. Eragon felt his blood boil as the two guards, human men, most likely with wives and children of their own just watched and assisted where needed. No real man would just stand down and let something like that happen to a woman. _

_Blood streamed down Arya__'__s face from her nose and from her forehead. The broken bone of her arm threatened to poke through the skin, but all she did was open her mouth and spit out a mouthful of blood onto the Shade__'__s cloak, staining it. The Shade backhanded her, making her land heavily on the floor with a thud. _

"_I won__'__t heal you this time. I__'__ll let your bones rot in your skin, and I__'__ll make sure your nose never heals by crushing it every single day. Perhaps you will die of pain soon; I wouldn__'__t mind that much." The Shade__'__s mouth curled back in a feral smile. _

_Arya raised her bloodied face from the floor and turned to face the Shade. "You can break every bone in my body and cover me in brands, but I won__'__t tell you where Ellesméra or the Varden are. You might as well kill me now."_

_For a second, Eragon felt fear that the Shade would follow her advice, but he just shook his head. "Eventually, you will either be unable to stand the torture and tell us everything we want to know or your will die from the torture. Until that day comes, I will continue coming in here everyday and carrying on this treatment. But, if you tell me what I want to know, I__'__ll allow you to die a quick, painless death."_

"_Never," Arya said vehemently. _

_The Shade shrugged and said, "Your choice,__'__ then, __'__give her the drug," to the two men. _

_One of the men pulled out a small flask and started towards Arya. This time, Arya was no longer submissive. She tried to pull herself to her feet, but her broken leg prevented her from doing so. She turned over to face the man and started backing away. There was a determined look on her face. The drug was obviously something she refused to take. _

_When the guard loomed over her, she used her unbroken leg to kick him between his legs. Hard. He shouted out and fell to the floor, clutching the spot she had kicked him and dropping the flask. When he was down, Arya kicked him in the head, making him curl up into a ball. Then she kicked the flask away then went back to kicking him._

_The Shade sighed as the other man hurried over to his partner to drag him away from Arya__'__s vicious kicks. "Must you always be so difficult?" he asked in a disappointed tone of voice. "Guard, give me the drug."_

_Obediently, the guard retrieved the flask from under the cot and handed it to the Shade. "Grab her,__'__ he commanded. _

_The guard nimbly avoided Arya__'__s flailing legs and stepped behind her. He roughly grabbed her arms and waist tightly to restrain her. Arya winced as the broken bone _did _break through the skin, sending a spray of blood flying into the man__'__s face. He grimaced but did not let go. Eragon could only imagine the amount of pain Arya was going through right now. No, actually, he completely had no idea how much pain she was in because nobody deserves to suffer such pain. Except for the Shade. He didn__'__t even know how Arya still remained conscious after what she had just gone through. He admired that she could withstand such pain, but he wished that she never had to. _

_The Shade bent down to her level and pulled her hair back hard. He forced her mouth open and kept the flask there, leaving her no choice but to swallow, else risk choking. The Shade forced her to keep drinking until the flask was empty. Only then did he step back with a satisfied smile on his face. The guard released her and she fell back. _

_Almost immediately, her eyes lost their focus. _

_Upon seeing that, the Shade then walked out without a second look. The guard helped his disoriented partner out the door before it was shut and locked. _

_Breathing heavily from the blood that was clogging up her throat, Arya painfully turned onto her front. She coughed out a lot of blood, choking slightly as she did so. Eragon could finally feel pity for her. She didn__'__t need the pity, but Eragon felt it anyway. He also felt an overwhelming urge to help her, but he had no idea how. He couldn__'__t even speak to her. He felt extremely frustrated. In desperation, he repeatedly thought, __'__Waíse heill!__'_

_By some miracle, it worked. And it was the spell at its finest. Her broken bones mended cleanly, and all her cuts and bruises were healed. Her brands disappeared and her eyes cleared slightly. The only thing that remained of her wounds was the blood. Arya looked extremely confused. _

"_Who _are_ you?" she sounded quite astounded this time. _

_Eragon had tried speaking with his voice, and failing miserably. Maybe it was time to change tactics. _

_With his mind, he reached out towards her. He didn__'__t know whether it would work, but he had to try anyway. _

_It worked. _

_Arya looked shocked as she felt someone touch her mind, but because she didn__'__t know whether it was friend or foe, she grabbed Eragon in a vice grip with her mind. It wasn__'__t painful…much… But it prevented him from getting out or getting in further. It was probably a good thing because he was afraid that the slightest thing would make him wake up and lose this precious first contact. With her fierce grip on his mind, he knew that that wouldn__'__t happen._

_In the ancient language, Arya asked again, __"__Who are you?__"_

_Following her lead, Eragon responded in the ancient language, __"__The one who healed you.__"_

"_Where are you?__"__ she sounded curious. _

"_Somewhere along the Ninor River,__"__ and because he felt doubt emanating from the haunting_

_abyss that was her mind, he sent her images of everything that had happened to him, from when he had received the egg to when he got his first dream of her. _

_When he had finished, she didn__'__t say anything. When her mind was silent, he felt a strange melody pulling at his heart. It invited him closer and closer to Arya__'__s mind, and he just when he felt that he could resist no longer, Arya increased her grip on him. Now it felt painful._

"_You killed Brom?__"__ she sounded cold and merciless. _

_Eragon winced and tried to release himself from her hold, but couldn__'__t. It only made her tighten her hold further. _

"_Answer me!__"__ she demanded. _

"_You__'__ve already seen my memories, what more do you need?__'__ Eragon said in frustration. __'__It__'__s not something I__'__m proud of, but even Brom has forgiven me, so I don__'__t see the reason to why you__'__d be acting this way.__"_

"_Memories can be modified, if you__'__re powerful and competent enough.__"__ Her voice was cold and echoed in his mind. _

"_If I really could modify my memories, why would I even tell you about what happened to Brom?__"__ Eragon tried to reason with her, even though the chokehold on his mind was getting close to suffocating. _

_Her hold stopped tightening, but he could still feel her suspicion. Then she said, __"__If it is all true, then swear it. Swear it in this language.__"_

"_I swear that the memories I gave you are all true,__"__ he swore without hesitation. _

_That was all it took. She released him, because there was no way he could have lied in the ancient language. _

_He felt extreme sadness coming from her mind. Through the deep song of Arya__'__s mind, Eragon could see that silent tears running down her face. __"__I__'__m sorry,__"__ he said quietly. _

_She raised her healed arm up to wipe her tears away, at the same time smearing blood all over her face. __"__What is your name?__"__ she still sounded sad, but resigned. _

"_You saw all those memories and you don__'__t know my name?__"__ Eragon was incredulous. _

_Arya shrugged. __"__It is polite to ask.__"_

_Eragon chuckled and said, __"__My name is Eragon Bromsson.__"_

"_Bromsson. Brom__'__s son. I__'__m quite amazed. I__'__ve known Brom ever since I was born… And he never told me that he fathered a child…" she seemed thoughtful._

"_He never told me either…Until after I killed him,__"__ Eragon said sadly. _

"_I__'__m sorry as well… I believe that your loss is greater than mine, even though you caused it yourself.__"_

"_I know Brom was like a father to you. But he never acted like a father to me. He could be a father to an elf, but not to his human son. Why? Was he ashamed of me? Was he ashamed of how I had been conceived?__"__ Arya pulled back slightly when she felt the extreme anger from his mind. _

"_Eragon… I don__'__t know the answers, for Brom never told me any of this. All I know is that at the end, Brom was proud to claim you as his son,__'__ Arya said gently, __'__Even I never got to claim Brom as my father. He may have treated himself as such, but I have no true claim on him. My own father was far too busy with his kingdom to take too much notice of me, and Brom stepped into his shoes easily. Brom is__…'__ Arya hesitated, __'__Brom is a great man. Accept him as your father, be proud of the fact, and move on.__"_

_Eragon sighed. __"__You__'__re right. But the only way to redeem myself is to kill Galbatorix. To do that, I need the help of the elves. I need you to get me to Ellesméra.__"_

_Arya was silent for a moment, then she spoke again. __"__My people are a secretive race. We went into hiding because even we, the strongest spellcasters then could not defeat Galbatorix. We went into hiding to keep our race from extinction. It seems selfish, but we were saving ourselves up to wait for a miracle, so that we could one day slay the dark king.__'__"_

"_You were waiting for a Rider.__"__ It wasn__'__t a question. _

"_We were. We had a Rider, yes, but Oromis-elda, who Brom asked you to meet, has his…disabilities. He would be more liability than help in a battle. His job is to train the new Rider, who in turn will have the power and knowledge to kill Galbatorix,__"__ Arya explained. _

"_This new Rider being me?"__Eragon ventured. _

"_Correct,__"__ Arya confirmed. _

"_So will you bring me to Ellesméra?__"__ Eragon pressed. _

_Again, Arya hesitated. __"__I do not know what they will do to you. Brom was well-liked by all elves… The queen named him elf-friend and presented him with Aren, which you now hold. And you killed him. You are the last free Rider, yes, but even so, you will not be received favorably. They might accept you, they will definitely use you, but it__'__s a strong possibility they will never like you,__"__ she said slowly. _

_It was Eragon__'__s turn to remain silent. __"__And you? Do you accept me?__"_

"_I don__'__t like what you have done. But I understand, because I have seen you memories, and I have seen that Brom forgives you as well. So…the verdict is that I don__'__t hate you…__But I will never like you.__ You may not have meant to do it, but you killed the man who was my friend, tutor and father.__"_

_Eragon fought hard to keep back all of his emotions, his thoughts and memories of Arya, his feelings for her, but to no avail. They poured out of his mind uncontrollably. _

_Arya pretended to not have noticed, but her mind suddenly turned frigid, the melodies were abruptly silenced. _

"_When will you get to Gil__'__ead?__"__ she asked formally. _

"_Two or three days, perhaps sooner, if we don__'__t stop much,"__Eragon felt slightly angered that she had just ignored his feelings for her. She had refused him, but Eragon was still inexplicably drawn to her. _

_His anger must have shown through the thin barrier that was now between them, for Arya said rather defensively, __"__Eragon Bromsson. It is impossible for us to be together. First of all, I have no feelings for you. I don__'__t even know why you feel so drawn to me; you hardly know me. Secondly, as you have seen in Brom__'__s memories, I can never be with a human. And lastly…__'__ her voice suddenly seemed to sound like it came from a far distance, __'__my heart belongs to Fäolin.__"_

_Bitterness swamped all of Eragon, and he suddenly wanted to be as far away from the beautiful, unavailable elf as possible. But because he was so bitter, he said, __"_You _don__'__t know me as well. You are simply making assumptions on the rock that I killed Brom. Secondly, you__'__re being prejudiced. And I__'__m not even really a human anymore. And lastly, Fäolin is dead. He can__'__t be that great a guard if he fell so easily.__"__ Eragon said the words, but he regretted them the moment he said them._

_He regretted his words not because he felt Arya__'__s painful chokehold back on him, tightened to the point of suffocation, but because the sadness he had felt from her earlier was back tenfold. Even as she was slowly strangling him, she was falling into her black hole of despair. __"__Never speak of Fäolin to me again, Eragon Bromsson. Push all thoughts of ever being with me out of your mind, for never will I allow that to happen. The day you try to pursue me by insulting Fäolin is the day you die,__"__ then she let him go. _

_The words she spoke were heartbreaking for him, but even Eragon could see that the very thought of Fäolin dead was killing her. She was retreating into her mind, determined not to let Eragon see the pain she was in. _

"_I will be back as soon as possible. I__'__m sorry,__"__ Eragon said regretfully. _

_The elf, whose mind was now bleak and cold, whose mind was earlier sharp and melodious, chose to ignore him and stayed within the confines of her mind. _

_Eragon took one last look at her curled up, blood-soaked form before forcing himself to wake up. _

When he sat up, he was breathing harder than usual, and he was soaked through the skin with sweat. It had been a very draining dream.

There was no need to relay the experience to Saphira, for she had started watching with Eragon when she realized that it was no dream. For once, she was silent.

They continued on through the dark landscape, both immersed with their own thoughts. At last, Eragon could no longer stand the dark silence that pressed in from all sides. It was a complete silence, for it was too late and too early for any creature to be awake. It was too reminiscent of his earlier silences with Arya.

_Saphira? Can you say something? _Eragon asked tiredly.

_You are a fool, Eragon, _Saphira said impassively.

_Really? Do explain. Was I a fool to fall for her on looks alone, or was I fool for thinking that by insulting her true love she would fall for me? Was I a fool for killing Brom, or for being angry at him? Was I a fool for being jealous of her relationship with Brom, or by being jealous of her relationship with Fäolin? Tell me how much of a fool I am, Saphira, for truly, I don__'__t know. _Eragon did not bother to hide the scorn in his voice.

For another long while, there was silence. Then Saphira sighed, letting out a breath of warm air that got buffeted onto Eragon's face. _I__'__m sorry, Eragon. I know this is a lot for you to take in, but you have to accept that nothing will happen between you and Arya. Her job is to take to Ellesméra, to the elves, nothing more, nothing less. You have to understand that the two of you are two sides of a coin. You have nothing in common with her other than magic, and even that is different, for your magic comes from me. Throw away all your notions of being together with her, and things between the two of you will be so much easier. Please, Eragon, I__'__m not trying to ruin your happiness, but I don__'__t think you can be happy if you insist on lusting after Arya. _

It was Eragon's turn to sigh. _I understand. I will try to give up on her… But surely you of all beings understand that it__'__s not going to be easy for me. I don__'__t even know why I feel such a pull towards her…_

_I can feel it too, Eragon, but you have to try to break away from it. You must, _Saphira said firmly.

_Very well. I will focus on killing Galbatorix. If that doesn__'__t take her off my mind, nothing will. _

And so that's how they found themselves asleep on a small overgrown hill a short distance away from Gil'ead a day later. There were plenty of trees and bushes to hide even Saphira's bulk. They were exhausted, Saphira more so, for they had really been flying non-stop, but it was almost impossible for Eragon's legs to move from the cramped position he had been in for more than 24-hours. He had managed to sleep in that position, but his sleep was always fitful and not very healing. They were now asleep because they had to recuperate as much as possible before taking on the Shade the next day. It would be a fight to the finish.

* * *

A/N :Yay!! Cliffy! I know you guys just love cliffies. Muahahahahaha.

I know Arya seems rather OOC, but c'mon!! You'd be pretty OOC too if you went through what she did! And I'm definitely not as sick as Scorpius for thinking up the things she went through. I'm really sorry if it upset you guys or anything… All I did was allow my imagination to run wild… The next chapter is going to include some very interesting revenge on Durza… *Snicker*

And and and, this chapter is being posted on my birthday, March 15th. Yay me!! And you know what, there would be no better present from you guys than to give me reviews! EDIT: Because some weird error, I'm posting this at 12:06, 6 minutes AFTER my birthday. Ah well... Happy belated birthday to me.. XD

Reviews are better than birthday presents.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Inheritance cycle nor am I Christopher Paolini. The only things I own are my ideas, my clothes and my ass, so don't burn it.**_

**Chapter 7**

Eragon groggily opened his eyes and found himself face to face with gloomy, overcast weather. He could tell that it was only morning, but the skies above were dark and grey. The sun was obscured by the clouds and there was no wind blowing at all.

'The calm before the storm,' Eragon mused to himself, 'and oh, what a storm it's going to be…'

He slowly sat up, tapping on Saphira's scales as he did to wake her up. He yawned and rubbed his sore legs. _Saphira, wake up. It's time to kill the Shade. _

Saphira's right eye flickered open and she glared at Eragon slightly. _Go kill him yourself. I'm exhausted. _

Eragon rolled his eyes and stood up to get some water from Saphira's saddlebags. _You're a dragon; you're supposed to be inexhaustible. _He drank deeply and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. _Now come on, we have to go and rescue the elf. _

Saphira's eyes finally opened fully and stared at Eragon with interest. _Why 'the elf'? What happened to 'Arya'?_

Eragon looked away and mumbled, _If you must know, I thought that distancing myself from her by calling her by species would distance us emotionally as well. Now shut up and let's go kill the bloody Shade. _

Saphira's eyes twinkled with amusement but she did not do anything further to embarrass Eragon. She merely stood up and stretched her wings. She winced.

Immediately concerned, Eragon went over to her side. _Are you alright? _

_I'll live, _she said grimly. _It hurts, but not too badly. _

Without a word, Eragon pulled Aren out from his clothes and, using an imperceptible amount from the vast amount of energy in it, he healed Saphira's bruised and tired muscles as well as his own. _We need to be in top condition when we go up against the Shade, _Eragon said by way of explanation, tucking the ring into his clothes once more.

_Well, I definitely don't mind, though I will certainly curse myself if I find that the bit of energy we just used could have been used for something else far more important just so that we could be more comfortable. _Saphira remarked as Eragon settled into his usual spot on her neck.

_I'd curse myself if we got ourselves killed because our muscles were too tired, _Eragon retorted.

Saphira didn't reply to this, choosing instead to take off into the air.

They hung there for a while as Eragon cast the necessary wards and spells to protect them from arrows and unexpected flying missiles. There was no room for mistakes, no time for them to waste healing an arrow wound.

When Eragon was finished, Saphira swiftly glided towards Gil'ead, but angled upwards. In just a few minutes, they were over the prison. They were far enough that no one on the ground would be able to see them, but with their now powerful vision, it was easy for them to make out all the details. The prison was a hulking mass of grey stone surrounded by a large, spiked iron gate. It was ugly, but it got the job done, said job being to keep the prisoners locked in. Eragon doubted that anybody would be able to climb the 15-foot high gate in a short enough amount of time that the guards wouldn't notice them. There were guards patrolling the inside of the gate and also several guards of the roof on the building. There wasn't a sliver of doubt that there were countless more guards patrolling inside the prison. They were each carrying a sword and a shield. Those on the roof had bows and arrows slung on their shoulders. There was one person in each spot, presumably the leader of each faction, who had a large spear by his side.

No one but someone with a flying, stealthy creature, such as a dragon, would have been able to get close enough to have taken note of all those things. It was a good thing, then, that Eragon had a dragon. He also had the skills to take out all of those guards.

He reached out with his mind as quietly as he could, intent on not alerting the guards below to what he was trying to do. He tried to get a feel of them, to figure out if they were guarded by any wards that would foil his spells and thus waste their chances of not being spotted and shot down from below.

Unfortunately, wards are triggered by less than that, and the leader of the guards on the roof suddenly looked up anxiously. Eragon cursed and muttered all the twelve words of death in a short spell. Twelve of the 24 guards suddenly fell like puppets that had had their strings cut. Evidently, the wards they had didn't cover that spell.

The problem with killing half of the guards on the roof was that the others immediately took notice of the skies. They looked up, one banging a short signal onto the trapdoor beneath his feet. Eragon sighed and repeated the spell as some of them began to nock their arrows. He regretted that apparently he would now have to fight his way through all the guards in the prison.

There was now no movement from the guards; there were only 24 dead bodies lying motionless on the roof. Eragon felt no mercy for them; he was only doing what he needed to do.

_That was…quick… _Saphira commented.

_I'm no longer the young boy who felt bad about stealing those leather hides. I'm different, remember? Killing is no longer hard, more a case of need. _Eragon answered coolly as Saphira quickly descended.

_How true. _Saphira agreed.

Eragon jumped off Saphira's back the moment they were near the roof and drew Zar'roc. He could hear the sound of numerous heavy footsteps coming up from the trapdoor of the roof. It had definitely been a bad idea to announce their entrance by killing two dozen guards.

The trapdoor was suddenly pushed open and guards poured out of it, only to have themselves burnt to a crisp in their armor by a waiting Saphira. She went nearer, not stopping her fire until her fire was pouring directly into the small hole. The guards tried to back away the moment they saw the fire, but the narrow passageway made it a natural furnace. They were all burnt to death in mere minutes.

Eragon patted Saphira's scales before going down the stairs. They both knew that she would need time to widen the entrance before even her head could get in. It was dangerous to split up, but necessary. The screams of the burning guards had most likely made all the guards who were left come running. Neither Eragon nor Saphira wanted to wait at the entrance until they managed to burn all the guards. They had come into the lion's den, now they would have to go on; they had to be the offensive party.

The heat from the stone floors seeped into his boots, making his feet blister. Eragon ran forward stealthily, chopping down guards that came running from the opposite side before they even saw him. Increased running speed from his transformation was certainly useful.

Soon, Eragon reached the end of the passageway. _The last cell on the highest floor…_ Eragon recalled Brom's words that he seemed to have heard so long ago.

He took a deep breath and opened the lock of the last cell with magic. The metal door swung open and revealed an empty cell.

Eragon stared blankly at the empty cell for a few seconds, taking in the bloodstains on the floor. Then he cursed and whirled towards the spiral staircase that was just behind him. Flickering torches made shadows play on the walls of the stairs, repeatedly startling Eragon and getting his nerves on edge when each time it was just a nothing more than his own shadow getting ahead of himself.

He jumped the last few steps and landed nimbly and silently on the ground. The staircase opened out into an empty room. There was nothing in it except two huge wooden doors at the very end of the room.

Immediately apprehensive, Eragon walked slowly towards the doors. He had a feeling that things weren't supposed to be this way. This room shouldn't have been empty, and Arya should have been in her cell. That was the plan. Kill the guards, get Arya out, kill the Shade, and get out. That was the plan. When you stuck to the plan, everything was great. You'd stay alive. But now, everything was wrong. Most likely the whole prison knew of the intruders in the form of a Rider, Arya wasn't where she was supposed to be, and this room… This very room was sinister. Something was definitely wrong.

Eragon drew himself up to his full height, raised Zar'roc to guard his face, and, using as much strength as he could muster, pushed the doors open.

The wooden doors slammed open much easier than Eragon expected, and the strength he used was obviously far too much. The doors slammed against the inside of the room and almost bounced back onto his face, but he was too shocked by the contents of the room to notice his embarrassing deed.

The room was at least five times the size of Eragon's own house, and with a ceiling that seemed to never end. The cold stone floors lighted by _more _flickering torches on each side of the room gave the room a dungeon feel, but that wasn't what shocked him.

There were several figures standing in the middle of the room, so Eragon looked there.

The Shade, standing tall and proud in black armor, with his long, thin sword drawn, Arya lying in a heap at his feet angered him, but that wasn't what shocked him.

What shocked, and scared him, were the two men flanking the Shade. One was the brown haired man he had first seen with the Ra'zac. The look of hate he had once seen on the man's face had been replaced by a look of cold disdain. The look was mirrored by the man on the other side of the Shade. This was the man who scared the shit out of him, because this man had silver eyes, and blonde hair. He looked just like Scorpius. Eragon felt freaked out, but then his attention was caught by the two dragons that stood behind the men. One was red, the other green. Both were male, and were of roughly the same size. The dragons, too, stared at Eragon with looks of disdain.

Eragon's attention was shifted again, this time back to the man who looks exactly like Scorpius. But it couldn't be Scorpius, could it? No! Scorpius was dead…wasn't he?

"Eragon Son-of-none. We meet again." Oh fuck. It even sounded like Scorpius. If it looks like a duck…and it quacks like a duck… Only in this case, replace the word duck with scorpion. Holy shit.

Eragon shifted, and swallowed, but said nothing. He gripped Zar'roc tighter. The odds were certainly crap. Two Riders, one who was supposed to be dead, and a Shade, versus the lone Rider without his dragon.

Still, Eragon wasn't going to back down. That would have been a sign of weakness. It would also mean leaving Arya behind. And most of all, he would probably be stabbed through the back if he so much as turned around.

Eragon took a closer look at Scorpius and noticed something interesting, and possibly deadly. The maniacal gleam that had once been in Scorpius' eyes was gone. The only thing left behind was a controlled, cold genius. Whereas Eragon once had a slight advantage over Scorpius because of his out of whack personality, the advantage was now gone. They were still on an uneven playing field, but the roles were reversed, and Eragon was now the one who was in danger of dying.

Scorpius raised his eyebrows at Eragon's scrutiny, before saying, "Surprised to see me, _brother?', _not waiting for a reply, he went on, "Well, let's just say I don't die so easily. Fire is my friend, and drama is my partner. Nobody who's really on fire screams like that, you idiot. I just cast a spell to make me unseen and walked out the back door. Oh yes, and didn't I mention I was a Rider too? Meet Salazar.' The dragon gave a mock bow of its neck at Eragon, and he noticed with shock that the dragon's eyes were silver, like its master, instead of green like its scales. 'I've been under the Lord's wing for years. I'm the best kept secret of the Empire."

Eragon gaped, and his mouth fell open, but he quickly snapped it shut.

The Shade smirked and said, "Hello Rider. Come to rescue your little elf, have you? Oh yes,' the Shade continued at Eragon's confused look, 'I knew you were coming, so my two ah…bodyguards prepared this little room just for you. And how did I know, you might be wondering? Well, let's just say that when the elf is in pain, it's easier to see into her mind and listen to every single conversation she's having with herself.'

The Shade shrugged and went on, "And usually, the conversations are pretty boring, because it's mostly conversation with herself about how she's not going to tell us anything, but yesterday's conversation…fascinating. Oh, and by the way, you can call me Durza."

Eragon's first reaction was to say, "Isn't that some kind of insect?"

The Shade roared and threw his sword at Eragon, who easily ducked it, causing the sword to embed itself in the wooden door that had closed of its own accord. "You will pay for that remark, foolish child." The Shade hissed.

Innocently, Eragon said, "How do you intend to make me pay, seeing as you don't even have a weapon now?"

The look on the Shade's face darkened, and he started muttering things that sounded suspiciously like incantations. Eragon frowned and realized that he was probably in danger of being attacked by spirits.

"Brisingr!" He didn't expect the fireball to hit, and it was merely meant as a distraction, but either the Shade was too absorbed in his chanting or he forget about wards against fire, because the fire hit the Shade's armor, and set it on fire.

The Riders on either side of him turned to stare at him as he stared down at his burning chest. Apparently, black armor was flammable. The Shade yelped and with a few short words, the fire was put out.

Battles, you see, are not as dramatic or amazing as they are in movies. Not everybody has to stand there waiting for someone to blink before they start slicing and dicing. Some fights, like this one, start off with egotistical banter, because they have no other idea how to start and because all the male testosterone in the room needed an outlet. All the chatting wasn't just for fun, it was their preliminaries, just like dogs, who stare at the other dog, waiting for alpha male to show itself before they start fighting.

Their preliminaries were done, and so the fight began.

Scorpius drew his rapier and jumped on his dragon's back. The brown haired man, whose name Eragon still didn't know, did the same, but his dragon, unlike that of Scorpius', flew towards the huge black curtain that covered the back wall of the room, not even bothering to look at Eragon anymore. Scorpius shot him a dark look, a mixture of distrust and jealousy, before turning back to Eragon.

Durza roughly kicked Arya to the side of the room, making Eragon wince in her stead. The Shade then muttered a quick word, and the sword stuck in the door suddenly flew out and landed in his pale hand.

The battle was begun, and Eragon was alone. He didn't even dare to contact Saphira because he had firmly blocked his mind from all outside forced. He didn't want to give unnecessary chances to his enemies. They had enough advantages as it was.

The Shade started running towards Eragon, and close behind was Scorpius on Salazar.

Eragon felt his heart start to beat faster and he willed himself not to move. He gathered as much of his strength as he could, and just before they could reach him, he whispered a spell of invisibility. He disappeared and stepped aside. Since the Shade's momentum was way too much, he couldn't stop when he saw Eragon suddenly disappear and he crashed into the door. Salazar was luckier; he simply raised its wings and did an abrupt turnabout.

Eragon started running towards the other side of the room, even though the brown haired man was there. He ran in a zigzag pattern, throwing fireballs over his shoulder all the while. He heard more yelps and deduced that his aim wasn't that bad.

He stopped when he got to the middle of the room. The distance was too far to throw more fire and far enough that he would see whichever side coming at him.

Salazar roared and Scorpius winced slightly. The Shade was fuming, literally. Smoke was pouring off his armor, thanks to the fire that had hit his armor and burned it. Eragon grinned.

"Rider! You filthy mongrel! Show yourself and fight like a man!" The Shade practically screamed.

With another silent spell, Eragon said, "If you were all men, you would fight me one by one, not 5 versus one." His voice thundered throughout the room and was echoed by the stone walls, thanks to the spell. It prevented them from finding him via his voice, at least.

Salazar whirled and sniffed the air suspiciously. _Fool! _He broadcasted out loud, _You forget that you still have a smell! _And then the dragon was flying towards him. There was a look of triumph on Scorpius' face as he sat straight and tall on his dragon's back. Durza looked desperate, and seemed to be trying to outrun Salazar.

Eragon knew he was in a deep load of crap. He had only his sword, which was no use against dragons, and he had his magic, but they had _more_ magic. The odds may have been against him, but he sure as hell wasn't going to lie down and die. If he was going out, he was going out fighting. Cliché as hell, but he'd be damned if he, the last good Rider, went out without a bang.

He pulled himself together, gripped Zar'roc tightly, and faced the dragon head on. Then he heard a noise from behind him, and he whipped his head around. The red dragon was flying straight at him, the brown-haired man on his back, a look of cold determination on his face.

Eragon grimaced, then he took a breath. _Right. Well, it's been a great 15 years of life… I tried to save Alagaesia, but I guess… it's just not meant to be. _He concentrated hard, focusing all his energy on one word.

"Brisingr!"

The world exploded, and he saw black.

The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake hard. _Eragon, wake up. Eragon, please, wake up. _

Eragon squinted, and then he opened his eyes. He was blinded by white light, and had to wait for his eyes to refocus. When he could see, he found himself staring at a never-ending patch of blue. _Maudiso?_

A soft _thing _slapped him in the face, and he blinked hard. _Not Maudiso, you idiot. You're alive, thankfully. _A voice in his head. Was he mad?

Confused now, Eragon sat up- and found himself blinded by whiteness yet again. But this time, it was the whiteness of pain. He yelped and fell back, closing his eyes as he did so. _Oww. Saphira? _

_Yes. Who else? _A familiar snort and the soft thing slapped his gently again. Eragon realized that it had been Saphira's wing. He breathed in deeply through his nose, and gagged. The acrid smell of smoke had filled the air, and he could barely breathe. _Why am I not dead?_

He opened his eyes again and realized that the huge patch of blue was Saphira, shielding him from as much smoke as she could. _Do you _want _to be dead? _She snapped.

_No, but… I expected to be. Where's the Shade, and Scorpius, and that other Rider? What_ happened?

Saphira hesitated, then said, _The moment you uttered the word Brisingr, I smashed in through the wall. You had used too much strength, almost all of it, and the whole room was on fire. I don't know how you did it, but you did. The Shade got completely covered in flames, and sort of… melted away. He turned into spirits, which whirled around the room, putting out most of the flames, then they all disappeared. I can't be certain, but I think I heard a spirit say 'thank you'. The two Riders seemed half-dazed and unsure of what to do. Then the brown-haired one ran over to you and picked up Zar'roc. He said, "I _will_ have what is rightfully mine." Then he raised the sword, and prepared to kill you, because he knew I was too far to stop you, so he was safe. But before he could strike, the stopped and looked up. Scorpius did the same. Then he sheathed his sword, and cursed aloud. They both grabbed their dragons and… disappeared…_

Eragon stared at her eye blankly, then he said, _Come again?_

Saphira rolled her eyes, and said, _I'll tell you later, when you're more alert. _

_Right. And what happened to the elf, and why are we still here?_

Saphira nodded towards Eragon's right-hand side, and so Eragon turned his head. He started when he found himself staring straight into Arya's face. _I couldn't carry the two of you away when both of you were unconscious, so I just put you two together and shielded you from the smoke as best as possible. I didn't go and check, but I think you've made the entire prison collapse, Eragon. _

Eragon turned his head again and gasped. _Impossible. I'm not that strong. _

_You are, but that's not why the whole prison exploded. You were in an underground cavern, most likely directly underneath the prison. I had a hell of a time trying to track your presence. I killed a lot of soldiers. _Saphira shrugged her massive shoulders, then she went on, _I came down here, and I saw a wall. I didn't see a door, so I just smashed right through the wall. It was surprisingly easy. Then the flames… They went right through the ceiling. It was amazing, because it only harmed the Shade, then it went up. Plus, the flames were blue, as usual. I think the flames were kind of like, your _will_ or something. _

Eragon nodded slowly, letting all the information sink in. Then he sat up, much slower this time.

The world around him was in ruins. Whatever flames were left burned steadily, not dying down nor getting worse. They just gave off the acrid smoke that was burning his throat. The walls were crumbled, and there were stones scattered all around the room. The ceiling suddenly seemed a lot lower, and a lot of the torches had fallen and been extinguished.

_Let's get out of here. I have a weird feeling about this place. _Eragon said grimly.

Saphira flapped her wings to get some of the smoke away. Visibility improved… slightly. _Eragon, can you get rid of this?? If the fire's still blue, it should be coming from you, right?_ Saphira sounded annoyed.

Eragon blinked, then stopped the magic. He hadn't even realized that he was the one providing the energy for the flames. The fire immediately died out, but the side effect was that it became a lot darker. "Kveykva," Eragon muttered.

A red flame burst into existence, casting a red tinge over everything. Eragon frowned slightly at the red ball of fire, and focused on it. With a soft 'pop', it turned icy blue. Eragon smiled in satisfaction. Saphira snorted but made no comment.

Eragon, under the _icy blue _tinge, turned to pick Arya up. She was surprisingly light, even though she was taller than him. She was like a ship that had been emptied of its cargo, an empty vessel. Eragon wondered whether all elves were lighter than they appeared or whether Arya was this way because of the torture. Saphira bent down and Eragon carefully placed her in the saddle before strapping her securely against Saphira's neck.

_Eragon, hurry, _Saphira said tersely, _I have a bad feeling about this place. I feel as though the ceiling is going to fall down on us. _

Eragon wasted no time in replying, because he felt the exact same way. Instead, he just leapt up onto Saphira back nimbly, and then Saphira opened her wing and flew towards the hole in the wall, closing her wings at the last minute so that she would be able to get into rather narrow stairway. (Narrow for a dragon, that is. It was actually very very wide for a human.)

The moment they entered the stairwell, the ceiling _did _cave in. Saphira quickly squeezed forward, breaking off pieces of the wall as she did so. The sound of stones cracking and the smell of dust filled the air, even though they were quite far from the room now.

Soon, they were out in the open. As in, completely in the open. There was no prison anymore. Instead, there was a huge pile of rubble around them. Some piles rose even higher than Saphira. The whole prison appeared to have collapsed inward, crushing everyone left inside. The only thing that was intact was the spiked gate.

A few guards limped around, looking for survivors, but they looked completely dazed. They didn't even notice Saphira, big as she was, coming out from the ground, because there was a huge cloud of smoke around them. And the moment they were out, Saphira slithered over to a large pile of rocks that blocked them from view. She hunched over and made herself as small as possible. Eragon squinted and could see a crowd gathering around what were once the walls of the prison. They didn't appear to want to help, but instead wanted to watch.

A young boy suddenly broke away from the crowd and attached himself to the gate. "Where is my father?" he screamed hysterically, "Where is he?!" He shook the gates as hard as he could, but they gates barely moved.

The guards did not even make an attempt to make an attempt to stop him. They just stopped what they were doing and stared at him blankly. The young boy looked completely enraged and seemed to be trying to climb the gate. When he failed, he screamed again, "Where is my father?? Today is the day he is supposed to be released, where is he?"

One guard simply raised his hand and pointed at the rubble. Several body parts could be seen grotesquely sticking out from under the piles of rubble. The boy stared and then he slowly fell to the ground, sobbing as he did so. "No! Father!" he wrapped his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth on the ground.

Several others in the crowd broke down as well. Their sobs could clearly be heard, their wailings and lamentations loud and heart-breaking.

Eragon felt guilty, but not sorry. It was his fault that all their family members and friends were dead, but if they had not done anything wrong, they would not have been put into the prison. He didn't have the time or the energy to feel sorry for others.

He reached around Arya and gripped the reins tightly. _Let's go, _he said flatly.

Saphira made no comment, but opened her wings and took flight among the sounds of the wailing and sobbing.

A/N

I sincerely apologize for making you guys wait soo long. I have no excuse except RL. It's been hectic, and I've got quite a loadstone of shit going on. I'll make advances on the next chapter ASAP, but I hope you can be as patient with me as you have been with me for this chapter.

Oh yeah, and Scorpius so totally makes a comeback. Haha. Bet nobody expected THAT. But he was just too awesome a character to waste. Plus, did anyone notice that he resembles DRACO MALFOY? (Blond, grey eyes, tall, genius). =) Totally pointless, but fun.

As usual, please review.

Reviews are better than saving Arya from the Shade.


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Inheritance cycle nor am I Christopher Paolini. The only things I own are my ideas, my clothes and my ass, so don__'__t burn it._

**Chapter 8**

They were flying peacefully in the air, high up in the clear blue sky, so it was quite a shock when Arya started expelling green light from every pore of her body.

Eragon yelped and leaned back. The fiery green light passed harmlessly through him and Saphira, but caused an eagle passing by 20 feet away to screech and fall out of the air. Eragon's eyes widened.

_Saphira! Do you need to land? _Eragon asked worriedly.

_No. I don__'__t think so. It doesn__'__t seem to hurt us, but Arya seems to be in trouble. _

And Saphira was right. Arya was trembling violently, her arms and legs shaking in their bindings. If she hadn't been strapped in, she probably would have hit Eragon in the eye. Eragon warily placed a hand on her shoulder, but quickly withdrew it in shock. Her skin was burning hot.

Worry emanated from Saphira and increased his own. _What__'__s going on? _Saphira sounded as worried as he felt.

_I don__'__t know, Saphira. I__'__ve never met an elf in my entire life. I don__'__t know if this is normal for them, or if she__'__s been poisoned, or dying. I DON__'__T KNOW. _Eragon roared in frustration. Saphira's answer to that was to fly even faster through the sky, but to where, neither knew.

_If she were human, she__'__d already be dead at this temperature, _Saphira pondered, _I doubt this is normal for elves, but she doesn__'__t look like she__'__s going to die soon. In fact, she looks more like she__'__s fighting to live. _Eragon looked at the elf in pity and pain, putting thoughts of his own aching heart out of his mind.

The eerie green light intensified, casting strange shadows around the elf's face and giving her a haunted look. Eragon leaned as far away from the light as he could. It was beginning to become unbearably hot. The elf's convulsions increased in speed and so did Saphira.

The cool air whipped around Eragon's face, making his eyes water and hopefully cooling down the elf. They were suddenly in a cloud, and it was completely dark, even Arya's green light was muted, but Eragon was sweating. The heat from the elf was intense. The Rider didn't dare to cast any spells because he didn't know whether he would make things better or worse. Judging by his lack of knowledge about how strong he actually was now, he would undoubtedly have made her worse.

Eragon helplessly watched as Arya flailed against the leather straps, and he wondered if she would be strong enough to break them. The light was blinding now, but Eragon forced himself to watch through half-closed eyes. They were flying so fast now. The green light seemed to be everywhere, outshining even Saphira's own bright scales.

Just when Eragon thought his skin would melt from the heat, everything stopped. At that exact moment, they shot out of the clouds. Eragon could see everything that happened. Arya was suddenly still, almost too still, and the green light pouring out from her skin vanished. The temperature dropped abruptly, due to their height and speed, so Saphira slowed down and went lower.

Even though the winds buffeting Eragon made him sway and shiver, Arya was unnaturally still, seemingly oblivious to the strong winds that threatened to blow her off Saphira's back. She almost seemed not to be breathing.

Again, Eragon gently placed a hand on Arya's shoulder. She made no response, and didn't move at all. "Arya," he said softly.

Eragon could barely hear himself speak, the winds had snatched the words from his lips, but him saying her name seemed to rouse her from her stiff vigil. Slowly, her body relaxed from her upright position, slowly falling forward onto Saphira's neck. Eragon kept his hand on her shoulder, allowing her to fall forward, but stopping her from impaling herself on Saphira's spikes.

Arya was limp and seemed exhausted, breathing deeply and slowly. Eragon worriedly looked at her. He said her name again.

She kept her eyes closed, but her lips murmured the words, "Rider Eragon. I… apologize for…my current state. Forgive me."

Eragon snapped back in shock. He hadn't expected her to speak, and her voice was like her mind, enthralling and like a magnet, pulling him towards her. Her single spoken sentence was filled with so much music.

He quickly recovered and pulled his hand back. "Arya Dröttningu. There is nothing to forgive. Please, rest. I'm sure you need it."

"Nay, I don't. What happened…it was an extreme way…of flushing the poison… from my system, but the fastest. Of course, it also…completely exhausted me. I'm fine now. Just allow me…a minute." Arya breathed the words, forcing Eragon to learn forward to hear what she said. The close contact made him uncomfortable, but in a good way.

Eragon leaned back again, and said, "Of course, Arya Dröttningu. Take as much time as you need."

"Thank you." Arya's mellifluous voice flowed over him, not helping his racing heart.

After about half an hour, during which Saphira just kept flying in a straight course, though at a less intense speed, Arya finally sat up slowly.

She took a deep breath through her nose, and Eragon was finally able to appreciate her true beauty. She was no longer haggard, the dark shadows in her eyes had subsided somewhat, making her look less otherworldly, more human. She sat straight and tall, once again a proud elf, throwing off the mantle of emaciated prisoner, tortured prisoner, as easily as throwing off a cloak.

Eragon could only sit in stunned silence. For the past half an hour he had contemplated what he was going to say to the elf, but all his previous thoughts were completely thrown out the window once the elf turned her dark green eyes on him.

He stared back at her, not threateningly, but expressionlessly. They remained in that position for a while, Saphira's wing's beating steadily, Arya's head turned at an angle to face Eragon, Eragon staring right into her eyes. Her gaze burned deep into his mind, and he felt as though she was reading every single inch of him, everything he had ever done, everything he would ever do. It was a vaguely unsettling experience.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Arya nodded slowly, appearing satisfied. She broke the gaze, and the trance, by smoothly placing a hand on Saphira's neck and using it to balance herself as she turned precariously on her back to face Eragon. She did it completely fearlessly, not bothering with the fact that she was several leagues in the air. Eragon's jaw dropped at her remarkable display of acrobatics.

When she had once more settled into the saddle, this time facing Eragon, she averted her gaze from his eyes and said, "Shur'tugal, allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Arya Dröttningu, daughter of Queen Islanzadí, ruler of the elves of Du Weldenvarden."

Eragon raised his eyebrows. It wasn't like he didn't know all of this already.

Arya continued with, "By the custom of my people, it is required that both parties are introduced formally whenever the situation allows, to prevent confusion in the future."

"That's foolish and unnecessary." The words came out before Eragon could stop them. He braced himself to get pushed off Saphira or some other painful punishment.

Arya's sudden laugh surprised him. "Perhaps that is true, but never allow my mother to hear that." She had a slight smile on her face. Eragon smiled back. Arya blinked, looked away. Eragon felt discomfited. Was smiling between the species banned?

The elf coughed softly, then said, "Well, Shur'tugal, I suppose we should go to my people?" Eragon nodded. "Would you allow me to speak to Saphira Bjarkskular? It would be quicker to simply place the picture of the map in her mind."

Eragon shrugged. "Ask Saphira, not me. It is not I who can grant you access into her mind, nor deny you." It was strange how it was so easy to slip back to formalities. Elves were actually such fickle creatures, despite how deep and meaningful the acted, and, unfortunately, he was turning into one.

Saphira, who had, of course, been listening to every word they said, snorted loudly. Eragon ducked to prevent his hair from being singed off, used to how easily Saphira lost control of her fire when she was annoyed. Only after that did he realize that he had pulled Arya down with him. She was taller than him, and if _he_ managed to get his hair singed, _she_ definitely would be in for it. These thoughts only took him less than a millisecond to get processed, and he had pulled her down with him. And now her hand was in his.

He hastily let go of her hand. "Sorry,' he mumbled, 'Saphira.. The flames.. Um."

_Oops. _Saphira broadcasted. _Sorry. My bad. _She stopped in midair, occasionally flapping her wings to keep them in place. She turned her head back to face the two figures on her back, one straight and stiff, the other blushing and looking around aimlessly. It was easy to differentiate the two. She raised the right side of her lips, a sound that was a mix of a snort and a roar escaping it.

Eragon snapped out of his embarrassment to stare at her strangely. Was she... sniggering?

_Yes, Eragon, I _am_ sniggering. _Eragon rolled his eyes, while Saphira continued her strange form of dragonish sniggering.

_Saphira. Just let Arya into your mind and stop wasting time. _He was slightly annoyed, but mostly trying to get Saphira's mind off the mini-drama that had unfolded on her back.

_Of course I allow you into my mind, Arya Dröttningu. Was there every any doubt? You did, after all, watch over me for nigh on 15 years. _Saphira sounded amused.

Arya nodded and flipped around again to face Saphira. She placed a hand on Saphira's neck before closing her eyes. Eragon, curious, delved into Saphira's mind as well. He managed to catch the last few words that Arya was saying to Saphira. _'...cannot because I still-' _She stopped herself the moment she sensed Eragon's presence. As though nothing had occurred, she proceeded to send images into Saphira's mind, images of deserts, trees, mountains, waterfalls. The images and instructions came fast and jumbled. No human would have been able to make sense of it. As an elf, Eragon had to trouble. _We are near the edge of the Hadarac Desert. As the crow flies, it will take us at least 3 days to get to Du Weldenvarden, and another day to Ellesméra. If you add in the time we require to rest, sleep and for Saphira to hunt, perhaps it will take us 5 days to get to Ellesméra. _

Saphira ran the images through her mind again. _Nay. It will take me a maximum of 4 days, you just watch. _Arya raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Eragon merely said, "Well, it is getting late. I suggest we rest for the rest of today and tomorrow we make an early start. Tonight, we hunt for supplies and find water. Tomorrow, we fly for Ellesméra."

Arya nodded and Saphira continued flying for another hour until they could see the Hadarac desert. The sun was just beginning to set, elongating the shadows, casting demons where there were none. Saphira went into a steep dive and landed right on the edge of the desert, causing sand to fly into the air where her large claws flew into them. She took a few running steps and before coming to a complete stop. When the cloud of dust settled, the three of them could finally look around them, at the landscape that surrounded them.

The landscape ahead of them was completely bare, a flat wasteland of hot sand. They were there- The Hadarac desert.

A/N Again, thanks for your be-awesome reviews and thanks to my hilarious and unofficial beta, NotBob713.

And of course, sorry for the super late chapter, but hopefully I'll update faster now that the story finally gets some action... It's time to meet the elves, dudes!

And reviews are so much better than staring longingly into Arya's eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Inheritance cycle nor am I Christopher Paolini. The only things I own are my ideas, my clothes and my ass, so don't burn it._

_Really quick note, do read this. I'm not sure why my usual reviewers were less than…usual in the last chapter. Possibly because I removed the Author's note then put up Chapter 8... Or you guys got bored of my slow updates. Either way, this IS Chapter 9, so if you haven't read 8, go read it now! For those of you who HAVE read 8, carry on. _

_**Chapter 9**_

When Eragon woke up, he rubbed his eyes because they itched. Then he rubbed them again, because they still itched. Then he realized that they itched because they were in the middle of the desert, which was full of sand, which was constantly blowing the sand into his eyes. He sighed, which made the sand go into his mouth, which made him cough, which woke his two companions up.

When Arya sat up, the first thing she did was rub her eyes. When Saphira pulled her head out from under her wing, she sneezed a sneeze that would have burned down a building, had there been a house in the vicinity to burn. Instead, the flames that shot out from her nose just warmed Eragon and Arya up from the cold desert night.

The sun was just beginning to rise, which made the desert look like it was glowing from below, a dim golden light illuminating everything. Arya's eyes softened slightly at this golden sight as they had done for the past 2 mornings. Eragon knew. It wasn't like there was anything else to watch, but he wasn't going to ask her why she did that and tip her off that there was a stalker in their midst.

"C'mon, let's go." Eragon urged, hating that he had to be the adult in the mornings, but Arya and Saphira were always too caught up in the beautiful-yet-lonely sight of the golden desert.

Arya nodded slowly and turned away, a wistful look on her face. Saphira merely grunted and bent down to allow them to climb on her back. When they had secured themselves in place, or rather, when Eragon had insisted that Arya use the saddle while he tied his legs down, as he had done for the past 2 mornings, she took off abruptly.

Eragon winced at the sudden pressure in his ears and said, "_Bad night, Saphira?"_

_Yes, though not thru any fault of my own. Perhaps you should look back on your own night, Eragon. _Saphira said shortly. Eragon frowned and thought about the night before. He had gone to sleep and he had dreamt about...

His ears turned bright red and fervently thanked whatever gods there were that the bemused Arya couldn't see him.

"Well,' Arya said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, 'We're making very good time, and with the help of the winds, we will most likely be under the cover of the trees of Du Weldenvarden by nightfall."

Eragon nodded, then remembered that Arya couldn't see him. "Right." he said. There was another blank silence, filled only by the sounds of Saphira's beating wings.

Eragon suddenly realized that he had no idea what to do when he got to Ellesméra and met the Queen. "Arya,' he said uncertainly, "I am not sure why I am going to Ellesméra." He cursed himself for only thinking about this so late, but for the past two days on Saphira, his time had been spent talking about tactics to fight two riders, tactics to fight the unstoppable Galbatorix, and how to keep his legs from going near Arya's. In the last case, thinking about it.

"What do you mean you don't know why you're going to Ellesméra?" Arya spun her body around to face Eragon. Eragon made a mental note to ask her how she did that without falling to her death before replying, "I mean exactly what I say. I don't know why I'm actually going there."

Arya's eyebrows creased. Apparently this message was too simple for her to understand.

"When I spoke to Brom, I knew that going to Ellesméra was the right thing. But now, I don't know why I'm going there. If Queen Islanzadí asks me what my intentions are, I don't know what to say. Do I suggest that she march out to war? Do I seek training? I just don't. know." He emphasized the last two words.

Comprehension dawned in Arya's black eyes, but they remained unchanged. She stared at Eragon for a while, as though he were a strange animal she had never encountered before, and she couldn't decide whether he was dangerous enough to have to be killed or not. Eragon stared right back, refusing to cower beneath her steady gaze.

After a few seconds, Arya raised her eyebrows and calmly stated, "There is no need for you to worry about these things. When we get to Ellesméra, you will tell the Queen your story in full. From there, she will either take action or advise you on _your_ actions. And most likely you will be sent to train with Oromis-elda."

Eragon's forehead creased. "Arya... What is wrong with Oromis-elda? Why does he not fight Galbatorix? Aren't elves super powerful and all that?"

In response, Arya's eyes darkened and she looked suddenly dangerous. "You would do well not to listen to any rumours and ask the true story from Oromis himself." And with that, Arya flipped back to face the front, clearly ending the conversation.

Eragon stared in shock at her back. All he had done was ask a question! What in the name of Brom was her problem? And then, _Hmm. In the name of Brom. I like that. _And then, _Women are so confusing! And complicated! _

Saphira chuckled throatily and said, _Only the ones on two legs, Eragon. Only the ones on two legs._

And Eragon had to agree.

And so for the rest of the morning until late in the evening there was no conversation except between Eragon and Saphira in the form of the occasional, _Oh look. An eagle. _And then, _Too much feathers and too little meat. I need to hunt soon. _

And in the late evening, they saw trees. Eragon gaped openly. Even at a distance, they were taller and thicker than any other trees he had seen before. Their leaves glinted even in the wavering light, and the branches swayed in the wind.

"Arya,' Eragon breathed, "That's..."

"Du Weldenvarden. Tell Saphira to land on the outside of those trees." Arya's voice was soft and longing. Eragon did as he was told. _Saphira? _

_I heard. Hold on. The wind's getting stronger. _Saphira sounded slightly strained.

And so it was. Eragon hadn't noticed, having been too busy either thinking or fuming. In less than a minute, the winds had gone from gentle buffeting winds to strong, 'knock you off a dragon' winds. Arya held on tight to the spikes in front of her, and Eragon had no choice but to hold tight to Arya, who gave him no reaction but to twitch.

In the end, the winds were too strong even for Saphira, and she dropped dangerously fast towards the ground in the general direction of the trees by corkscrewing her body. Every other second Eragon was hanging onto Saphira with only what strength he had in his legs, and the other second he was trying to regain his balance before the cycle started all over again. He wasn't sure whether it was he who screamed, or Arya, but someone did. And he couldn't close his eyes, but all he could see was blue and brown and grey. And suddenly he saw green. He felt something hard whack him on his head with what seemed like the force of Saphira killing a deer, and he then all he could see was black.

* * *

When Eragon opened his eyes, he could see some brightly coloured things that burned his retinas. He squinted, then he realized they were stars. In the sky. A sky that was randomly blocked by green things that looked like... leaves?

Then he realized that he was probably in Du Weldenvarden. And that it was night. And it wasn't windy?

"I see you're awake." Arya sounded almost...bored? He could dimly see her sitting across from him, leaning against a tree.

Eragon sat up and groaned at the sudden rush of blood to his forehead, which was caked with.. dried blood? He touched his forehead and felt only smooth, unhurt skin. He frowned and looked over at Arya. "What..?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "After Saphira's charming stunt, we crashed directly into the tops of the trees. Saphira crushed most of the branches on her way down, but somehow _you_ crushed your forehead on a branch, lost your grip, and fell from the very top of the tree, which happens to be about 50 feet tall. As if that wasn't bad enough, you fell face-down. Saphira got very anxious and tried to fly down to save you, but her tail got caught between the branches. She almost pulled the whole tree down, but the tree won. Then she started trying to destroy the whole forest because she couldn't really maneuver in between these trees. I stopped her, told her to go hunt, and that I would find and heal you. I convinced her that what she was doing wasn't helping, so she agreed. I gave her directions to a nearby stream which has a much wider space, and an abundance of animals, and she left. And then I climbed to the ground, found you, and then healed you before you bled to death." Arya said, not smugly, not condescendingly, but in a way that was almost weary.

Eragon grew inexplicably angry. Why did she always act like that? It wasn't even as though he had been purposely rude to her, it wasn't even as though he still tried to woo her. He was actively trying to be polite, but she seemed to actively only allow herself to remain on the thin edge between civility and hostility. He couldn't, wouldn't take it.

He jumped up and started pacing. After a few seconds which consisted of Arya staring at him warily, he could resist the urge no longer. "What's wrong with you?" He snapped. Arya blinked, and her eyes registered surprise, but her voice remained calm when she said, "What are you talking about?"

"This!,' Eragon burst, "Whenever you talk to me, you talk to me like I'm some volatile 8 year old who doesn't know much but could potentially destroy the world! It's like you hate me, but have no choice but to be polite to me! I would rather you straight out be rude to me, because at least I would know where I stand." He spat out.

Arya's eyes darkened, and Eragon thought he could see faint green sparks around her fingers, but he stood his ground. He could practically see her hair getting angrier. And as she grew angrier, she seemed to grow taller than Eragon, even though she remained seated. Bitterly, she spoke these words, "As a Rider, you have responsibilities-"

Eragon didn't let her finish. "Don't fucking lecture me about being a Rider! I've done so much, but I've only truly been a Rider for less than 2 months! I've gone through hell and faced a Shade and two Riders alone! I have discovered things that I should never have been told! So give me any excuse, but don't tell me about my responsibilities!" His voice rose in volume and aggression.

Arya jumped up and got right in Eragon's face. "As a Rider, you are responsible for the fate of the people. As the last good Rider, you are responsible for the future of Alagaesia! Think! Had I not treated you this way, would you ever have stopped trying to pursue me? If you know as much as you claim, you should know that I would never mate with a human, much less a Rider who has so much to do! If we lost the war simply because you were too engrossed with wooing me instead of fighting, what do you think will happen? Do you think someone will come out and save us all?"

Eragon was speechless, but Arya wasn't finished. She started pacing around in front of him, stopping to point vigorously at him every few sentences. "You say you are young, you say you are inexperienced. Yes, I concede this point, but that cannot be your excuse! If everyone was allowed to back away from their duties because they didn't feel ready, this land would early have ended. It's not about how young you are, it's about how much you want it! And though you have done, and tried to do so much, you cannot stop and say you want a reprieve. It's not fair, but life is never fair! You have to accept that you cannot rest until Galbatorix is dead, and you have to accept that by even trying to woo me, you would distract yourself and myself from what is important."

Here, she stopped to breathe, and then she walked right up to Eragon, who had lost all of his earlier bluster and was stuttering incomprehensible words. "The only thing important for us is to kill Galbatorix. If he does not die, then all of us will die, and what then would have been the point of falling in love if it ends only in an early death? If you must find love, do not find it with me, Eragon. Together, we would cause so many problems that Galbatorix would seem to not exist. Throw away the idea of ever being with me, Eragon. Burn that idea to the ground, and bury it 20 feet in the ground and cover it with stone." Then Arya turned away and started walking away from him.

"Arya,' Eragon blurted out, "I'm sorry, but I can't stop myself from feeling these things. Can you truly blame me for something I did not mean to do?"

Arya paused, her profile barely visible in the waning moon, but Eragon could tell she was trembling. From what, he didn't know. "Everyone can stop themselves from feeling, Eragon. All you need to do is want it hard enough. Feelings are easily crushed, tossed aside, and forgotten. Forget me, Eragon." Her voice choked and she walked a few more feet before stumbling down behind a large tree, close enough for Eragon too see, but far enough to provide enough privacy. Eragon couldn't hear her sobs, but he could see her posture, and from that, it was obvious enough.

He turned away, ashamed. She was obviously still in love with Faolin from the way she kept talking about love. Still in love, yet yearning not to be. He had been a fool to not see the signs. He should have been able to see the occasional moments where her guard slipped and she had been relaxed, moments where they had even laughed together. They were seldom, but seldom was not never, and never seemed like the only option left. Even though consciously he didn't think about it, it was those moments that allowed him to keep hoping.

He sat down heavily against his tree, and when Saphira came back, weaving through the closely packed treetops, he wasn't at all surprised to see that she went straight to Arya, without even bothering to check on Eragon. He watched through half-closed eyes as she gently nudged Arya with her snout, and then curled around the tree and Arya. He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

* * *

A/N : Ooo. Eragon effed up. Aww. Arya's obviously not over Fäolin, Eragon's obviously not over Arya. *Sigh* Love Triangle. But, this fan fic is not going to go into the romance section. I'm still going on 90% action. Hmm. That sounds wrong. Next chapter brings on the elves and some pretty nasty moms.

Thanks to NotBob713 for his *fascinating* ideas. Thanks also to all my reviewers for Chapter 8, you guys rock for taking the time to give me that review!!

Reviews are like chocolates. It's hard to stop after having just one. So if you leave me a review, I'll leave you a chocolate!


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Inheritance cycle nor am I Christopher Paolini. The only things I own are my ideas, my clothes and my ass, so don't burn it.**_

**Chapter 10**

The angry roar of a dragon is impossible to ignore. Whether in battle or in times of peace, their roar is magnificent and terrible at the same time. It's noble and cruel, angry and calm. Even if you were deaf, you'd hear it, simply by the sound waves jamming themselves into your ear. In any case, Eragon had better hearing than most, and he was jolted out of his half-sleep by the angriest roar he had ever heard Saphira roar before.

He scrambled up, disoriented, to see Saphira busy roaring in the face of a...tree? Eragon blinked. The tree had a face? Trees here were sacred, but surely not because they were alive! What was even stranger was that the tree seemed to be roaring back at Saphira, but Eragon couldn't be sure because Saphira was much louder. The strangest thing was to see Arya standing between the two, trying to keep them apart. Tall though she was, she was an ant, an insignificant speck compared to Saphira and the huge tree. The whole situation was so ridiculous that Eragon nearly laughed. Instead, he held it in and cautiously walked over.

_Saphira? _He ventured.

Saphira didn't even look at him. With her mouth, she continued roaring, but with her mind, she irritably said, _What? Can't you see I'm busy?_

Sarcastically, Eragon retorted, _Busy doing what? Fighting with a tree?_

_Shut up. If you want the story, ask Arya. Leave me alone. _With that, Saphira blocked off her mind. She started making advances towards the tree, which in turn swayed it braches at Saphira menacingly. Arya sighed and carefully untangled herself from between them. She dusted herself off before walking over to stand next to Eragon. She crossed her arms and stared straight at the dragon and the tree.

"Arya? What's going on?" Eragon didn't turn to face her, afraid of what he might do if he looked her in the eyes.

Likewise, Arya didn't move her head. "The tree is the one Saphira nearly pulled over yesterday. It took this long before the tree could muster up enough vengefulness to fight back. So now Saphira is trying to intimidate the tree into leaving us alone. If we just walked off, it would most like just send vines to stop us. I tried to get Saphira to stop, and to let me speak to the tree, but she said something about letting her 'rip the stupid tree apart for being in her way in the first place' and that if I didn't let her, she would 'rip me apart first'. She's obviously in one of her moods. I decided to just allow them to fight. However, if the tree senses that it cannot win, it will most likely allow us to pass. Hopefully."

It seemed that last night's conversation was best to be absorbed, but never talked about again. Eragon frowned. "What's the other alternative if it doesn't let us pass?"

"It will wake the other trees up and squash us all," Arya said simply, still watching Saphira and the tree carefully. "It was unfortunate that of all the trees, Saphira destroyed this one. It is called the Albero di Rabbia, which means the tree of anger." Arya shrugged. "Any other kind of tree and this wouldn't have happened. However, it has happened, so the best we can do is just to let Saphira do what she can."

"Can't we help her?" Eragon wondered. "We have magic."

"And what would you do with your magic, Rider Eragon? Burn down the tree? If you tried, the tree will immediately strike us all down, and allow me to speak frankly that there is no way in the deepest pits of hell that you can defeat a burnt, angry tree. And using fire against it now would also possibly burn the whole forest, thus killing ourselves as well. That is also the reason Saphira hasn't tried using fire." Arya sounded bored, as though she encountered murderous trees everyday.

"So... There is nothing we can do except wait? If it takes a whole night to get it angry, how long will it take to calm it down?' Eragon got increasingly irritated. "We've fought Riders and Shades and soldiers, crossed the insanely hot desert, and now we have to waste our time waiting for a stupid tree?"

"You don't need to worry. We won't have that long to wait. All the trees in the forest are somehow connected, by root, leaf or vine. The moment anything happens, that message passes along to every single tree, including the tree that protects our borders. A message about a dragon will send the elves into a frenzy to get here. They will use our elf horses, who are extremely fast. And from there, we will be able to go to Ellesméra even faster than had we wished to walk. They will also be able to calm the tree....hopefully." The last word was muttered so softly Eragon almost didn't catch it. Arya continued in her normal voice, "So, perhaps this was a blessing in the guise of a curse. Either way, there is nothing we can do now except wait. I estimated that when the sun is in the centre of the sky, they will be here."

Eragon nodded slowly. He was about to sit down when Arya spoke again. "There is two things you need to know before we enter Ellesméra. First, do not address me there as you address me here.' Arya turned to look at Eragon sternly. He could only nod. "Secondly, we do not hunt for meat-'

"What?' Eragon burst out. "You must be jesting! What do you eat if not meat?"

"We sing all our food from plants.' At Eragon's confused look, Arya said, "When you get to Ellesméra, you will understand. What I wish to tell you is that if you want, you can hunt around here, but it will be the last time you taste meat until you get out from Ellesméra."

Eragon nodded slowly. No meat? Elves were stranger than he ever thought. But then a thought hit him. "But Arya, you've eaten meat with us on our way here."

"It is not a rule. It is a choice. When times are desperate then we must put aside our choices and survive. You never wanted to kill, but because you wanted to live, you did. Because I wanted to live, I ate. Once I re-enter Ellesméra, I will again not partake of meat. Living with the Varden for so long has made me less repulsed by eating meat, but I do it only for the sake of being polite or survival. And possibly, or perhaps not, after your training, you might not eat meat either." Arya shrugged. "Either way, if you want to eat meat, do it now."

Eragon nodded again, but still sat down. Arya gave him a strange look, to which Eragon replied with, "If I have to leave meat behind, I might as well start now." Expressionless, Arya turned back to watch Saphira and the tree. Eragon followed suit.

Saphira was now making low growls and circling the tree, prowling one way around the roots before going the other way. The tree braches followed her movements, the roots seeming to vibrate gently. And below Saphira's growling, Eragon thought he could hear something else. A roar of a deeper register, so deep that he could barely hear it, but could feel it. "Arya... is that the tree.... growling?" Eragon asked in confusion.

"Yes. It is. And you should hope it doesn't roar, because when it does, the ground opens up, and we shall be swallowed." Eragon turned to stare in shock at Arya. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I am. Because when the tree growls, it vibrates. That's the vibration you feel. And when it roars, the vibration gets so strong that the ground cracks and opens up. When and if that happens, you should be far, far away." Arya spoke calmly, not showing even the tiniest hint of fear. Like her voice, her gaze was steady. Eragon blinked and turned back to the strange 'battle' in front of them. He really hoped the tree wouldn't roar.

However, as many trees as there were, Eragon still felt the heat. If his brain was tired before, watching Saphira fight the tree and learning about what the tree could do didn't help. Sitting next to Arya, saying nothing and doing nothing, it was to be expected that Saphira began to blur into a blue shape, and the tree to a green and brown shape. He could feel himself slipping into the half-unconsciousness that was his sleep, but he couldn't be bother to stop himself. After all, Arya had said that they would probably only be rescued by midday. Judging from the sun, it was barely 9 in the morning. Falling asleep couldn't possibly hurt. Far from it- his mental capabilities would probably improve. After all, it was only a tree they were dealing with as compared to the dragons and Riders and soldiers. How dangerous could a stupid tree be?

And so Eragon fell asleep.

* * *

Ellesméra...

_A male elf dressed in a deep red cloak embroidered with golden threads, the official mark of a duke, with a head of hair of the deepest black, proud eyes of the lightest blue, tall and muscular, walked swiftly towards the Queen's own chamber, one hand tightly holding the pommel of his sword. The elf standing in front of a wall saw him, and after a quick knock and an indiscernible murmur from inside the wall, it quickly transformed into a huge swath of plants, with a small handle made of wood in the centre of it. The guard opened it and allowed the elf in. _

_Immediately after the elf had entered, the guard outside closed the door once more. The vines that had broke off began to grow back again, effectively hiding the door from those who didn't know it was there. _

_The duke walked to the end of the corridor and rapped lightly at the last door on his right. The door began to untangle, plants sliding away from the point his knuckles had hit. Within several seconds, the wooden door was revealed. He opened it and hurriedly entered into a large, but simple room that contained only a long table and 12 chairs. None of them were occupied. However, at the very end of the room, the Queen Islanzadí herself was standing up, looking out of the only window in the room. The view was one of the entire city of Ellesméra. Islanzadí looked pensive. _

_The duke walked until he was next to her and she had turned to him. He touched two fingers to his lips. "Atra esterni-' he began, but was cut off by the Queen. "Formalities are all very well in times of peace, Glenwing, but perhaps now is not the time. Were it not an emergency, you would not enter my own abode without invitation. Say what you wish to say, and spare me the titles and elven expressions." She sounded tense, but not without reason. A thing like that didn't happen to elves. Disaster didn't strike very often. _

_"Yes, Queen Islanzadí. You know of the anger of the Albero di Rabbia. You know that it woke up this morning, furious at the harm done to it. You know that it was a dragon and two others harming our tree." Glenwing spoke in a deep, hard voice. _

_"Yes, yes, I know all of this. I heard it from the trees themselves. I know that it is not Galbatorix, which is all I need to know. What of it? Have not some of our most powerful elves been sent to stop the tree from beginning it's terrible roar? Nothing more can be done. If the tree cracks, we shall have to lift Ellesméra. All the other elves are making preparations, as I have made mine. Perhaps with all the power in our veins we will survive the roar of the Albero di Rabbia." Islanzadí sounded slightly impatient, but there was an undertone of calmness, a scary acceptance of the future in her voice. _

_"There are two things you must know, my queen. One, the tree can no longer be stopped. According to our oldest librarians, those older than even you, this happened before, once. And as you know, the Albero di Rabbia can only be stopped once. Trees may be slow to anger, angered once, they might stop. Twice.. Well, you know as well as I what happened to _il villaggio sommerso_, The Sunken Village. There is no way that it will be stopped again, no matter how hard our elves try." _

_Glenwing shook his head slowly. Islanzadí looked out the window, but now with a look on her face that clearly wondered how Ellesméra would look a million miles in the ground, if it were still intact. She sighed. "And what might be the second thing? If it is anything as bad as the first..." Her voice trailed off. _

_Glenwing fidgeted uncomfortably. The next thing he said would cause either celebration or depression, quite possibly both. "The second thing you must know,' Glenwing said slowly, 'Is the information that has just been confirmed by several trees. Your daughter, Arya, is alive and is one of the two people near the Albero di Rabbia." _

_Queen Islanzadí gasped and turned to stare in shock and Glenwing. She stalked over to him, seeming to grow taller with every step. Glenwing held his ground as best as he could. When she was a hair's breadth away from him, she stopped. "You said she was dead,' she hissed, 'You said she was taken by the Shade, the foul red-headed Shade." She looked positively murderous. _

_"Yes. I said she was taken by the Shade. I suspected she would be tortured. I suspected that she would be killed. I was obviously wrong. The trees do not lie. They recognize her soul from the times she has played in the woods. All the elves are in shock and some even seem at the point of celebrating, even in face of the impending doom." Glenwing, sure now that the Queen was calmer, allowed himself to take a step back. _

_Islanzadí looked pale, paler than her usual milky white complexion, the black robe she was wearing contrasting against her skin. She sat down in one of the chairs and stared straight ahead. "Arya..." She whispered. Glenwing knew better than to speak. There had been so many moments like these, moments where the Queen had seemed to become so filled with emotion that thinking, much less speaking, was impossible. This moment was different. There was so many conflicting emotions on her face, but the most obvious emotion was joy, joy that was suppressed, hope against hope, instead of the darkness that had clouded her face for so long._

_After so many months, surely there would have been news? Rumours that there was a captured elf... But no, it didn't matter, she was alive, and who cared about the past any longer? All these thoughts were easily read on her face, but Glenwing, in respect to the Queen, had averted his eyes. He didn't need to do it for long as after a few seconds, the Queen had composed herself. "Glenwing, forgive my earlier rudeness,' and then, touching her lips with two fingers, she said, 'Atra esterni on thelduin." _

_Glenwing's jaw fell. "Queen Islanzadí, I could not allow you to greet me first." _

_"You disrespect me by not replying to my greeting, Glenwing-finiarel." Islanzadí looked calmly at Glenwing, awaiting his reply. Glenwing slowly raised his fingers to his lips. "Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr." He slowly allowed his arm to fall, staring speechlessly at Islanzadí. _

_Calmly, Islanzadí completed the ritual with a firm, "Un du evarinya ono varda." And then before Glenwing could recover from his shock, Islanzadí clapped her hands together and said, "And now, if you will allow me to dress, I must go after the elves and to my daughter. Perhaps if you do not mind, you will accompany me." Without waiting for a reply, Islanzadí turned and went out another concealed door. _

_Glenwing shook his head in disbelief, then he quickly turned and went out the door, back out into the corridor, and then out the main door. The guard looked at him strangely, but did not make comment. He hurried towards his own home. He had preparations to make._

_

* * *

_

A/N. Okay. So maybe you didn't really like this chapter. Honestly? Neither did I. But it had to be done, as you'll see in the next chapter. Albero di Rabbia and il villaggio sommerso are Italian. If you think it's wrong, just tell me when you review. I don't learn Italian, but I like the language, which is why I used it. Credits to google for allowing me to translate it from English.

Also, I try to reply to all reviews, so if and when I reply, and you have any questions, if they won't spoil the story then I'll answer your question, so feel free to spam my inbox!

All my reviewers rock, and if you wanna rock, all you have to do is review.


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Inheritance Cycle nor am I Christopher Paolini. The only things I own are my ideas, my clothes and my ass, so don't burn it._

**Chapter 11**

Glenwing swept through his door in a rush. He breathed steadily, though he had run there straight from Queen Islanzadí's home. He went through the main room, past the kitchen where a rich smell rose from the oven, went up the winding staircase, into his bathroom. From there, he removed a small panel of wood from inside his washtub. Under that panel was a mess of green, thorny vines covered with bright silver flowers. He sucked in a breath and muttered "Dauth Arget, draumr." Silver Death, Dream.

The flowers wilted and lost their colour, slowly turning transparent before disappearing altogether. Glenwing breathed a sigh of relief. The Silver Death plant was a plant that had supposedly been created when the blood of a dying dragon and Rider fell onto poison ivy during a full moon while they were protecting their mates from Galbatorix. The ivy had died, but after a week, a new plant grew in its place: Silver Death. Anyone who was to touch the plants would immediately get silver marks all over their body, and would die within minutes. On closer inspection, you could see raised lines all over the dead person's body, pulsing slowly with a silver liquid. If you cut them open, there would be no blood. There would only be silver liquid, trickling out thickly and glowing slightly...

The new plant had been quickly taken and grown and re-grown to use by both sides, but every newly grown plant was less poisonous than the last, until it completely stopped being life-threatening and died out. This batch had been specially grown and given to Glenwing as a gift and to be used to protect the even more precious item he brought back to Ellesméra. It had been hard hiding this from the other elves, as he had been pawed over constantly when he returned. He bared his lips slightly in contempt. Elves. Honestly, they pretended to be so good, but underneath that beautiful exterior, they were nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He checked that the silver flowers had all wilted before sticking his hand deep into the dense mess of vines. He felt painful prickles on his hand, but that was normal. It was if he felt a sharp stinging all over his palm that he would be in danger. Glenwing grimaced and dug around, feeling around the thorns for a small vial. Finally, he pulled out his blood-covered hand to reveal an ornate vial. It was tightly stoppered with a piece of carved metal, covered all over with a fine but purposeful design of vines, made also of metal. The tiny inscriptions in the vines were miniscule, but clear. Dwarf work. Carved in the ancient language was the word 'sitja'. Stay. Highly ingenius, and the only thing that would keep souls from fleeing. There were only several that had been created. Most were the lost. Once it was open, the dense black swirls that were inside would rush out and cause complete confusion. Everything would be dark for several moments, and everyone who breathed would choke and fall unconscious for at least half an hour. Or so he'd been told. In that half hour, he was to do whatever was necessary.

_... And then, do whatever you think is necessary. I trust you._

Glenwing shuddered at the deep and haunted voice echoing from inside his mind. He knew that he was at the edge of a very tall cliff that overlooked darkness and despair. Behind him were his friends and what remained of his family. Staying on the cliff would mean staying on the side of the elves, but did he want to? Did he even have a choice? He took a breath, put the vial in an inner pocket, carefully concealed and convenient to reach for- and then he jumped off the cliff.

* * *

After what felt like mere minutes, Eragon felt the ground rumble. His eyes snapped open, thinking that the ground was cracking. It wasn't. Arya stood straight and tall next to him, her eyes harshly slanted. The sun shone bright in the sky, right above them. Midday.

"That rumbling is the feet of our horses. There must be many to be felt so strongly, and there are only many when the Queen is with them. Get up. They will be here in seconds." Arya said all this in a tight, strained voice, staring at a point between the trees.

Eragon leapt off the ground and dusted himself off hastily. He noticed that even Saphira and the tree had seemed to stop fighting and were gazing at the same point as Arya.

Within seconds, as Arya predicted, what seemed to be a gigantic mass of dust rushed quickly towards the gaps in the trees. All at once, the rumbling stopped, and all was silent. Slowly, the dust and dirt began to settle, revealing dim shapes of many horses, and many elves.

The horses were slim and muscular, intelligence obvious in their eyes. Even covered with dust and panting heavily, they were more noble than the noblest horse Eragon had ever seen. Perhaps it was the fact that they were wearing saddles and looked freer and more at ease than any other horse Eragon had ever seen. Their brilliant, bright eyes flicked past him as though he was as uninteresting as a rock.

The elves, on the other hand, had eyes for nothing but him. Like the horses, they were also slim and muscular, but at the same time, tall and willowy. Pointed ears, of course. That was always the most notable thing. Thin slanted eyebrows, like Arya. There were eyes of every colour, and Eragon even saw one wide-eyed elf with such a pale shade of green that it looked almost white. Hair, some long, some short, all smooth and glimmering. Their skin was mostly pale, although some darker shades could be seen. All of them, both males and females were dressed in the same kind of tunic as Arya, a shirt and pants. Most had hands gripped on the pommel of their sword, while some had bows at the ready. They looked nervous but determined. Only two elves were sitting calmly on their horses, arms folded, faces blank. One was male, one female. It was obvious who the female was. No one else could possible look so proud and royal sitting bareback and surrounded by dust other than the Queen. Queen Islanzadí. Of the male he had no weapons, a bow and quiver strapped to their back, a sword to their hip, were untouched.

Eragon counted almost 50 elves. It took him two seconds to take in the scene and count them, and in the same two seconds, Arya had slowly knelt down and touched her first two fingers to her lips. Before she could say anything, however, she was cut off.

"Daughter to the Queen, rise. There is no time for formalities. Come, greet your mother who you haven't spoken to in 70 years."

Some elves registered shock at how the elf had spoken, but upon seeing the calm, unangered look on Islanzadí's face, they were expressionless once more. The only elf who had looked shocked upon hearing this sentiment and still looked shocked was Arya.

"Glenwing?' she whispered hoarsely, completely bewildered, 'Impossible. I saw you die."

Eragon eyes followed the casual movement of Arya's guard, who she had supposedly seen die. Eragon watched as Glenwing nimbly got off the horse and calmly walked over to Arya at a normal pace, as though he was aware that more than 50 pairs of eyes were on him. He crouched down next to Arya, who was staring at him in confusion. In her mind she was, after all, staring at a close friend, a friend who was supposed to be dead.

Glenwing placed his hand gently on Arya's shoulder and murmured, "I am no ghost. You can feel the weight of my hand. You can see how I act, how I speak. You can feel my mind. Am I or am I not Glenwing?"

For several seconds, Arya looked confused, completely bewildered. In the tense silence, each second lasted an eternity. Glenwing let go of her shoulder and offered his right hand to her, to pull her up. Arya, with her mouth slightly open, took his hand. At the exact moment that Arya took his hand however, Eragon, and probably Glenwing as well, perceived the slightest change in Arya's eyes. Where at first it was soft and confused, emotional, in that tiny moment where she took his hand, her eyes expressed shock. She gripped his hand tighter, and Eragon, standing so close, could practically feel her presence forcing itself into Glenwing's mind.

With a movement that would have looked natural if Eragon hadn't just witnessed the look on Arya's face, Glenwing immediately pulled his hand back. There was the slightest bit of colour rising to the top of his neck.

Arya's eyes widened, then narrowed. She swiftly pulled herself out of his grasp and leapt up. Warily, she moved several steps back. "Glenwing, my mother, your friends and even your family may say they know you well, but it is I who have spent the last 70 years in close contact with you. Yes, in body and mind you may be Glenwing, but in soul, you are not the Glenwing I know. You have been corrupted, Glenwing. I saw it, deep inside you, a festering black mass of evil. Where did you go before you came back to Ellesmera, Glenwing, my _friend?_" Arya's fists were clenched and her eyes were mere slits. Eragon could feel the tension from the other elves as they watched this dramatic moment. He couldn't blame them. There was no movement from any of them. All the trees were still, even the Albero di Rabbia.

Glenwing looked up at Arya from his crouched position, his eyes hooded by his eyebrows. Slowly, he stood up. It was obvious that when he had reached his full height, his hand was hidden in the depths of his cloak. 49 bows and arrows were immediately pointed at his head and stayed by a ready hand. "What makes all of you think,' Glenwing said, slowly turning around, 'That I am the imposter here? Have I not stayed here for 3 months and not hurt any of you? Is she not the one who accuses the first person she speaks to of being an imposter? Is she not speaking like an elf, with logic and rationality, but more like a human, with uncontrolled emotion? She comes back, bringing with her a Rider and dragon, both unknown. The dragon has even awokened the tree that will quite possibly kill us all. After that, she continues by insulting me and making false insinuations. Look clearly: who is the imposter here?" Glenwing made firm eye contact with the elves her knew, making them avert their eyes, discomfited. The only one who Glenwing didn't dare to look at was Islanzadi, who, surely now that her daughter was back, was no longer as disillusioned as she once was.

Arya spoke clearly and slowly, enunciating each word carefully. "The Glenwing I knew wouldn't have spoken like that. The Glenwing I knew was a man who-" There were two cries, one echoing the other. Eragon only recognize Arya crying out in pain and then she fell to the ground. Eragon hadn't even noticed the arrow speeding past his ear and sinking deep into Arya's gut. He later found out that the pale-eyed elf had been the one who accidentally loosened his arrow, which happened to slip from targeting Glenwing to Arya when his horse made a sudden jerking movement. But at that moment, all he saw was the blood, trickling steadily down Arya's tunic, the blood stopped by the arrow, which was half embedded in her.

"Arya!" Eragon moved to help her, but Glenwing was closer. Before anyone else could make a move, before Eragon could take even a step, before even the other faster elves could do anything, Glenwing had taken Arya into his arms. One arm was held tightly under her wound, making her wince and blink back tears. The other hand was desperately gripping a small vial decorated with painstakingly carved silver vines. His thumb was pressed against the cork, his forearm was around her neck.

"Stop! If any of you make a single move, I _will_ pour this down her throat." Glenwing knew he was in a desperate situation. He also knew that had he not done anything, Arya's words would have gotten through to the other elves. One wasn't the daughter of the Queen for nothing. If he could, he would trade the elf for the Rider, but if he couldn't, well, the Dark King would be glad to be rid of this troublesome elf.

"Glenwing, what is that?" Sharply, from Islanzadi.

"Glenwing,' this was from Arya, in a broken whisper, 'what are you doing? Who have you become?"

Whispers from all around the clearing, murmurs of his name, again and again.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Glenwing screamed. "If any of you say another word, these spirits are going down her throat!" Arya stared blankly at Eragon. He desperately wanted to do something, but Glenwing was using her as a shield from any other attacks. "If any of you make a move to go behind me, I _will_ know. And then Arya will die. Drop your weapons." His hand trembled, but his eyes were fierce. The elves turned towards Islanzadi, who was trembling with anger, or fear, no one knew which. "Drop them,' she hissed harshly. They did.

"This wasn't supposed to happen. This was not the plan.' Glenwing's voice was detached, almost indifferent. "It has been five months since the dragon egg was lost. I have only been back three. Did none of you have suspicions? Did any of you care to ask questions beyond what happened that night? No. The only question I kept hearing was 'What happened? Is Arya alive? Is the egg lost?" He laughed mirthlessly. "I lied to all of you. I said I had been shot and taken for dead. I said that I had been weak, without any strength of magic to heal myself. I said that once the Shade was gone, I hid in a cave until the day I healed. I said I ate nothing but roots and leaves for two months. I lied."

The elves around the clearing were still and silent, statues in the drama playing out before their eyes. The Albero di Rabbia waved menacingly, but made no attempts to attack again. Saphira's back was arched threateningly, he eyes glittering dangerously at Glenwing. Small trickles of smoke wafter out of her nose. Islanzadi was motionless, but a vein in her temple throbbed. Eragon could only stand there, helpless to help Arya.

Glenwing looked contemptously around at the other elves. They were but ants in the grand scheme of things. Oh, if they only knew the extent of the Dark King's plans! But no matter, they soon would, if they lived to experience it. "I was captured. They heard me gasping for breath and the Shade came back. My wounds were easy enough to heal, if I had the enery. But I didn't. I fell into unconsciousness. When I woke up, my hands were bound around a chair and my mind was muddled. I had no magic in me at all. I was drugged. Less than a minute after I woke up, the Shade walked in. He twisted my mind, fed me stories until they weren't stories anymore, they were real. He told me Galbatorix's real plans. And it was from this Shade that I understood how truly retarded our race was." The elves looked angered, some even making moves towards their dropped weapons.

"No, don't move.' Glenwing waved the small vial almost mockingly. 'We wouldn't want the Queen's _daughter_ to die, now would we?" At the same time, he dripped the end of the arrow and pressed it in slightly further. Arya slumped backwards into his body, her eyes losing their light slightly. Her lips were parted enough that a small trickle of blood could leak out of them. Several of the elves visibly flinched.

Eragon could take no more. In a deathly soft voice, he said, "Let her go." Fifty pairs of eyes swivelled to stare at him. Glenwing spared him a glance then laughed uproariously. Eragon blanched. His laughter was painful to listen to. It was the laughter of a dying man, someone who knew that it wasn't time to laugh, but there was no other time to laugh. It was mocking, disbelieving and frustrated. It was the laughter of the insane.

"See, this proves it. People with magic think that they're so amazing, that they can do anything. They think that with magic, they are invincible, that they don't need to be afraid. They think that they can ask for anything and get it,' here Glenwing looked at Eragon straight in the eyes, 'They can't."

The clearing was again, silent. The tension in the air was palpable, but they were hanging onto Glenwing's every word. He may or may not have been deranged, but whatever else he was, he was enthralling.

"There have been elves like me before. Elves who dared to speak out and wonder why we have always been the superior race. Why do we consider ourselves better than humans and dwarves? Why do we raise ourselves above them?' Glenwing shook his head. "They were labelled heretics and fools. They were quietly taken away. Their kind died out soon enough. You think Galbatorix is bad? Have you any idea what happened to those elves under our _delightful_ Queen's reign?" He sneered.

"How many humans have been slaughtered when they refused to bend to your wishes, my queen? How many dwarves have you forced into your service in secrecy and then presented their works as 'gifts'? How many of these incidents have you hidden from your own people?" Glenwing looked fiercely and insolently at the Queen. Islanzadí was still and silent, her eyes calm and betraying nothing.

"We always pretend to be so calm. We always act like there is never a problem, simply because we don't want to be like other races. Well, our idiocy is what is killing us! Being so proud is not a good thing! We are a dying race, simply because we cannot breed fast enough, and because we are too proud to let ourselves fall in love with humans! We are afraid, deep inside, afraid of failing for the first time in our lives. We are afraid of humans! We are afraid of rejection. Linnea was rejected and look what she did. Humans are too unpredictable, too volatile. They have too much emotion. But perhaps,' here Glenwing spoke softer, 'Perhaps we just have too little. Lives are lives. Who is to say that human and dwarf lives are less valuable than ours?"

"Galbatorix, in trying to make peace between everyone, has, in his ignorance and madness made war instead. He too, has become too proud. And now I am trying to do what he failed to do.' Glenwing's shoulders slumped. With a soft murmur in the Ancient Language, he said, "I give up. There will never be equality between the races. That was the dream that convinced me to come back. But,' with a sad look around the clearing, he said, 'I see how impossible it is. I am failing as well." Glenwing suddenly let go of Arya, who fell to the ground with a soft thump. "I never meant to hurt anyone,' he whispered. 'I'm sorry."

With that, he swiftly uncorked the bottle, raised it to his lips and poured the contents down his throat.

* * *

AN

Well, the ending isn't very merry, but Merry Christmas, or whatever politically correct term I'm supposed to use. I actually like Glenwing a lot, in this chapter, so I'm kind of sad to kill him off.. Sigh...

This is your 'Holiday' present, by the way. I still love you guys more than the reviews you give me. HINT.

Thanks again to NotBob713 for his unofficial beta-ing and his support. And of course, to everyone who reviewed, added me to fave author, fave story and story alert. I'm kind of flattered that so many people are reading this. Again, love you guys.


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Inheritance Cycle nor am I Christopher Paolini. The only things I own are my ideas, my clothes and my ass, so don't burn it._

**Chapter 12**

In his waking sleep, Eragon travelled through the day yet again.

* * *

_Glenwing, pouring something into his throat, convulsing and falling down, twitching and flailing until he exploded in a mass of black spirits. _

_The spirits engulfed him in a screeching, swirling whirl of formless evil, flying back and forth around the clearing, avoiding the elves, but coming dangerously close to Arya and even brushing up against Eragon. He shivered as he remembered the feeling of touching something so malevolent and purely evil. He didn't touch it, but the very essence of the spirit felt slimy and sent chills down his spine. _

_The spirits flew faster and faster, surrounding Glenwing till he couldn't be seen until they moved as one, a swirling vortex and murderous intent. Then they were gone. Just like that, the clearing, previously so thick with evil that the air was unbreathable, was clear and fresh. The tree branches, previously crashing together in the wind caused by the spirits, now were swaying gently in the light breeze. But Glenwing was gone._

_It took a second before the elves and Eragon realized that Arya remained. She was still bleeding, but the arrow was black and looked like it was pulsing with what could only be a curse. She didn't appear to be breathing, but she was pale and covered in cold sweat. She suddenly convulsed. Eragon looked around at the motionless elves before exclaiming in disbelief, "Why don't you heal her?!"_

_Islanzadí was the elf who replied. "She cannot be healed by our art now. Had she the means to heal herself, she would not have allowed herself to be so easily subdued by Glenwing. The arrow is also now poisoned by the spirits, and she can only be healed by slow work of plants which we have only in Ellesméra, or by herself, from the inside. Also, even if we were to push our horses to the limit, something we are not wont to do, by the time they get back to Ellesméra, she would be dead. Had she even the thought of healing herself, however, she would already have done it. And it is not our custom to heal those who do not wish to be healed." All this was said calmly, as though her only daughter was not bleeding to death at her feet. _

_Eragon couldn't believe it. As cold as the elves were, or pretended to be, this was her child! The heir to the throne! She couldn't just let her daughter die! Of course, it was possible that Islanzadí was just trying to remain the aloof Queen, even when inside she was dying like Arya was dying. But he didn't have time for this. _Arya_ didn't have time for this. "If you're going to let your daughter die, then so be it, but I sure as hell am not going to let that happen,' Eragon snarled._

_With that, amidst the gasps of outrage among the elves, Eragon lifted Arya bodily from the ground and clambered upon Saphira, carefully __manoeuvring__ Arya so that he didn't damage her more. 'Fly, Saphira. Fly fast to Ellesméra. We have no time to waste.' Eragon told Saphira urgently. Without a word, Saphira spread her wings and shot off above the horses. Several of the elves protested and raised their weapons, and some even turned their horses around, but were stopped by a hand movement from the Queen. Even as Eragon sped past the cavalry, he heard her clearly say, "Hinder them and die at my hands." He smiled faintly. After all that talk, the Elf Queen was, in the end, a mother first, and an Elf Queen second. _

_Saphira rushed maniacally through the trees, seeing them less than seconds before she could change course to avoid a collision. There were a lot of trees, a lot of chances to crash, fall, and waste time getting up again, but Saphira was focused in her terrifying speed. She swooped, ducked, spun, and folded her wings as necessary to avoid the branched and trunks. The way to Ellesméra was clear, a thin road, lined with trees that were increasingly taller and thicker. They were so thin, in fact, that Saphira was forced to glide sideways, an arduous task for her, and an almost impossible task for Eragon to hold on to Arya without hurting her further. Still, it was faster than riding those little ponies. _

_Time passed so quickly, with Saphira coming close to a collision every few seconds, and with Eragon desperately trying to hang on to Saphira whilst holding on to Arya that, unexpectedly, the trees thinned and opened into a large, circular space. Standing dead centre of the circle was an elf that looked ancient, but well and alive, a powerful aura of wisdom and magic surrounding him. Saphira angled herself well above him and attempted to fly past. She crashed into an invisible barrier and fell quickly to the ground before she could attempt to open her wings. She was winded and disoriented. The ground shook, and she landed right behind the elf._

_Eragon, who had been pressing his back against Saphira's neck, absorbed the shock of whatever Saphira hit. Arya, leaning against his chest, didn't seem to be hurt. And the shock of Saphira hitting something she couldn't punch through, at full speed, jarred him so badly that he fell off Saphira, Arya still clutched in his arms. From 30 feet in the air, he yelled out a quick string of words in the Ancient Language and dropped slowly but steadily to the ground, landing neatly in front of the old elf, Arya still in his arms, feverishly cold, but still alive, though barely. _

_Perhaps it was coincidence, but a spot through the branches and leaves of the trees above shone down directly onto the old elf. He wore a white, flowing robe and a thin circlet of silver on his head. He looked serenely at Eragon, as though a large blue dragon had not just flown above his head and crashed into something invisible right behind him and landed also right behind him, less than several feet away. It also did not seem to concern him that he had a Rider, intent undetermined, standing in front of him with a dying elf in his arms. _

_Somehow, Eragon knew that it was this unassuming elf, so calm and at peace with the world in the face of such danger, was the one who had managed to stop the powerful dragon who weighed several tons and still stood there as though he had done nothing more strenuous than breathe. Power did not always make itself known with destruction and terror. In the Ancient Language, still, Eragon said, "Let us pass. This elf is dying and in need of care that can only be found in Ellesméra." _

_The elf, in a rather infuriating manner, shook his head and smiled. "I am Gilderien the Wise, Prince of House Miolandra, wielder of the White Flame of Vándil, guardian of Ellesméra since the days of Du Fyrn Skulblaka and I have my orders. Only those pure in heart and without evil intent are allowed into Ellesméra." _

_"I'm trying to save her life! She is the daughter of Islanzadí! Are you going to let her die?" Eragon exclaimed in anger. Supporting Arya as best as he could with one arm, Eragon shoved his palm with the gedwëy ignasia on it to the elf. "If you're so wise, then let me through!" _

_The eyes of the old elf darkened in the slightest degree, but in such a calm face, it was noticeable. "Do not attempt to force your way, Rider. I can see in you an evil so powerf-" Gilderien was cut off by Islanzadí's mental voice, clear, although she was still so far away. 'Gilderien. Let them pass. Whatever they may do is on my honour, and wherever they may trespass is on my grave. They have the favour of the Queen.' _

_Gilderien frowned dreadfully, his face transforming from a peaceful old man to a vengeful Urgal in a second. His eyebrows slanted in anger, his mouth curved downwards dangerously. His eyes, however, were full of something that looked almost like fear. He slowly raised his arms. Softly, and in the hiss of a viper, Gilderien said, "Pass, Rider, without my blessing, but with the blessing of our Queen. But I was old before the Queen was Queen, and I know that allowing you to pass is the greatest mistake of my life." He stared at Eragon, that anger on his face, that fear in his eyes. _

_Eragon was slightly shaken, but pushed his words of his mind for the moment and quickly passed around Gilderien the Wise, Prince of House Miolandra, wielder of the White Flame of Vándil, guardian of Ellesméra since the days of Du Fyrn Skulblaka and into Ellesméra. Saphira followed beside him, tottering unsteadily on her feet. Eragon cried for help as he stumbled through the streets. Arya was barely breathing in his arms, and he didn't notice the simple, yet elegant architecture the elves had made out of trees. _

_Elves rushed towards him in a sea of people, young ones, old ones, blonde, brunette, red-haired, brown eyed, blue eyed, colourless eyes, all pale and looking at him as one. They engulfed him in their masses as Arya was taken away from him, they told him, to a medical unit. From there, everything was a blur. Perhaps because the shock of what just happened had finally settled in, or perhaps Gilderien had done something to him, he felt as blur as Saphira. The elves, with their soft questions and incessant greetings, blurred into a mass of shapeless, pale objects, and he fell into a half-consciousness, where he was only half-aware of things going on around him._

_

* * *

_

Eragon frowned. From there, things were unclear. He remembered hands catching him as he fell, Saphira growling menacingly, assurances of goodwill, someone carrying him somewhere, a soft bed, and, now, waking up. As his eyes opened blearily, he tried to contact Saphira, but she was busy hunting. The sight of all that blood from the deer unreasonably caused him discomfort. He closed his mind and focused on the person in the bed next to his. Arya. She looked paler than usual, but her stomach had been tightly bound in white bandages. Her lower torso was dressed in the same black pants as before, but her upper torso was bare but for the bandages.

He tore his eyes away, heat prickling across his neck and ears. She looked haggard but she breathed, and that was enough to relieve his worry. Seconds after he had regained his composure and was facing the blank wall on his other side, not daring to look around the room for fear that his eyes would wander, a door in front of him opened. Islanzadí, dressed in a simple red tunic and black pants not unlike her daughter's, strode confidently into the room. She did not even spare him more than a glance before she stopped at her daughter's bedside, and, unfolding a large blanket, carefully covered Arya with it. She looked at Arya with a look mothers reserve only for their children. From what Eragon could see from his vantage point, Islanzadí looked almost...vulnerable. She looked at Arya with such love in her eyes that Eragon felt his heart break a little, knowing that Arya would surely forgive her mother, if only the Queen had ever showed Arya that love while she was conscious.

Then the Queen stood straighter, then turned around to face Eragon. He struggled to a seating position, not tired, but not quite in control of his limbs. He clumsily raised two fingers to his lips and said, "Atra estern-"

Islanzadí cut him off with a swift look. "Rider, were it not for you, I would not even have a daughter now, so if anyone should be greeted first, it should be you, not I."

Eragon nodded slowly, but replied, "Still, you are a Queen, and I am a Rider. Perhaps this puts us on equal footing. Shall we just forego the traditional greetings?' and without waiting for a reply, Eragon inclined his head slightly and said, "Islanzadí Dröttning, my name is Eragon Bromsson."

At the sound of his name, Islanzadí blinked, but made no other movement. "Bromsson', she murmured. 'I miss Brom. He was one of a few exceptional humans. Where is your father, do you know?"

Eragon blanched. "He is... dead." Eragon looked away, shame creeping up his neck.

Islanzadí merely nodded thoughtfully, as though she did not notice Eragon cringing away from her. "I'm truly sorry about that. He was a great man." The great man's son cum murderer nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He did not dare to speak the truth, knowing how highly the elves thought of Brom. He needed all of his limbs intact to kill Galbatorix.

During a mildly awkward silence, Islanzadí had just swallowed enough pride to ask about her daughter's disappearance, but before she could, a loud crash outside the room interrupted her. _Let me pass before I burn this whole place down! _Saphira. Eragon smiled. In seconds, amidst murmuring apologies from the elves, the door to the room was magically enlarged enough for Saphira's head to fit through, which she did, whilst growling in annoyance. She laid her large head on the ground, leaving her eyes perfectly level to the bed so that she could look at Eragon.

_Hello, Queen_. Saphira sounded amused. _It really wasn't my fault that that large vase outside broke. Your guards refused me entry. They were polite, but really, why didn't you want to let me see my Rider? Did you want to question him alone, perhaps? _

Islanzadí flushed proudly, but nonetheless flushed, which meant that Saphira was right. She, Saphira, not the Queen, snorted smoke out of her nostrils. _If you're done, I could quite possibly have him back now? I'm sure you are done, aren't you? _

The Elf Queen made a half smile, half grimace and said, "I think whether or not I am done with him, you are going to take him back to your quarters. Go then, mighty dragon. I have not the authority or the power to stop you.

Saphira's bared her teeth in what might have been a smirk while Eragon got up as quickly as possible without falling over. He frowned and wondered why he still felt so strange. As though she had read his mind, Islanzadí called out from behind him, "Oh, and Rider Eragon, I must apologise over how Gilderien put that confusion spell over you. It will wear off soon enough. According to him, you're dangerous and he didn't want you to have your full senses."

Eragon stopped mid step, but didn't turn around. Firmly, he said, "Islanzadí Dröttning, I take my leave." It wasn't forgiveness, but it was all he was going to give, so she took what she could get. Then Eragon followed Saphira's withdrawing neck out the door, and into an elaborately simple hallway. Trees were walls, with the ceiling being formed by overlapping branches and leaves, allowing some light in through the tiny holes. Eragon concluded that it was night, judging by the occasional blackness he could see through the empty spaces.

Through the hallway, they had passed several elves, all of whom greeted Eragon and Saphira with the traditional greeting. He was forced to stop and engage each one of them. Soon, the hallway opened abruptly into a large courtyard. Even in the dark, Eragon could see that it was beautifully decorated; with plants he didn't even know the name of surrounding the perimeter.

_Come. _Saphira gently nudged Eragon with her snout. _I'll take you to our living quarters. Are you well enough to walk? _Eragon shook his head. _Damn Gilderien. I still feel dizzy. _Saphira growled slightly, but said, _Climb up. _When Eragon was firmly seated, Saphira took off to a mind-blowing height. Eragon gasped. Truly, the view was amazing, especially in the twilight. There was a rough approximation of a circle, surrounded by huge trees. Directly in the centre of the circle was where Eragon had just came out of, and it was obviously the place where only the elves equivalent of royalty lived.

The rest of the circle, which Eragon could barely see, was made up of smaller, but hardly any less grand, houses. The houses looked more like tree houses, but accessible and almost certainly more comfortable. They glowed dimly with light from the inside, giving enough light to the elves outside to walk around. The elves themselves, who looked tiny from so far above, were gathered in small groups, doing their own thing. Some wandered around the magnificent gardens, as late as it was, while others flitted in and out of the trees in a small swath of woods, clearly playing a game.

Saphira gave Eragon some time to appreciate the sight, and the fresher air, which cleared his mind somewhat. _Our quarters are over there. _Saphira slowly glided towards a house that looked more like tall tree. It was the tallest tree he had ever seen, but bare of branches along the sides, with only a massive head of leaves and branches on the top of the tree. It was situated further from the centre, more towards the border of Ellesméra. Saphira circled the tree until she came to a hole near the base that was more than three times her size, allowing her to land in the tree easily.

Eragon jumped Saphira, his dizziness ignored or forgotten, and eagerly explored the monstrous tree. They had landed on a circular platform, with cracks and scratch marks all over the wooden trunk/floor. _The Riders of old must have stayed here. _Eragon mused. _No, _Saphira shook her head. _Only Vrael, and, of course, the first Rider, your namesake. It was reserved for the leader of the Riders of the age. Now it is yours. _Eragon shook his head slightly, awed.

Next to the entrance Saphira had come in from was some stairs leading up. _Where do those go? _Eragon asked Saphira. _They lead to other rooms, like the washroom, the bedroom, a study, and perhaps some other rooms for recreation. I do not know. There are no entrances for dragons there. There are only two such entrances. One here, at the bottom, and one at the top, at the bedroom. Too many such holes would have cause the tree to become far too susceptible to the weather. _Saphira turned towards the entrance and said, _Go on and explore. I will meet you at the top. _With that, she leapt out and lazily flapped her way up, facing Eragon, which meant her shorter forearms stuck out. She wiggled them mischievously, which was out of character for her, but Eragon could sense some of her wonder, as much as she tried to hide it.

Eragon laughed and turned to the stairs, which, he found out, followed the outer trunk of the tree and with a thinned bark, allowed light in, and gave more space to the other "recreation" rooms, whereupon the stairs branched into two, one towards the middle of the trunk and one continuing upwards. The first room he entered was low, only a two or three arm's length above his head, but as large as the entire perimeter of the trunk, filled with low tables and no chairs. One long table was neatly laid out with row upon row of steel tipped arrows with delicate swan feathers, basic wooden arrows with tougher, dyed feathers, and a few barrels of arrows made of pure steel, covered in spikes. Eragon's eyes grew , looking out through his eyes, remarked, _That's the weapon's room, as you've noticed. Islanzadí said they were checked on and maintained, just in case the elves ever set out to war. The weapons aren't for you. _She chuckled.

Eragon frowned. _That's the kind of arrow you were attacked with, Saphira. _He gingerly picked up one of the spiked arrows. Saphira was silent for a moment. _They humans probably took the idea from the elves, _Eragon fumed. _Such an awful __weapon__. I can't believe the elves would use this against their enemies! As if they can't kill enough people with their magic. _He threw it back in the barrel, making it clang against the others. _Peace, Eragon. It wasn't them who attacked me. _Saphira counseled.

Eragon didn't deign to reply. He walked to the next table. It held all kinds of strange, six pointed stars. He had heard of these, but had never seen one before. The men in Carvahall had called them shurikens, made for cowards to use from far away. He picked one up by one point, marveling at how sharp it was. The quick thought of Horst calling the elves cowards for using weapons like these made him smile briefly. He put it back and walked on.

The third table was covered with sharp, steel tipped spearheads. There must have been hundreds lying in neat, perfectly straight rows on that long table. He was wondering where the actual spears were when a prickling on the back of his neck made him turn around. Eragon finally noticed the rows of spears, swords and bows hanging in neat rows the walls. They had been so unobtrusive that he hadn't even seen them. Wooden spears, halberds, bardiches, voulges, and other polearms that Eragon had never even heard of before lay horizontally, going all the way up to the ceiling in even rows. Next to it were even more rows of swords. Two-handed, one-handed, short, long, broadswords, cutlasses, falchions, rapiers, flamberges; Eragon's eyes hurt from the gleaming of the sharp edges. Normal bows like the ones he used also adorned the wall, though there were longbows and crossbows there too.

Another part of the wall was entirely devoted to armour. Much of it was chainmail, much lighter and harder than it looked, to Eragon's surprise. It was even finer than dwarfwork. "Magic," Eragon spat. But even as Eragon condemned it, he found himself drawn to the weapons. The helmets gleamed and the gauntlets shone. War boots with spikes in the bottom of the shoe lined the ground in neat rows of different sizes. Eragon shivered, but went deeper into the room. One table was covered with daggers and small knives. They were lying in their scabbards, connected to straps, obviously meant to be hidden within loose clothes or in high boots. Eragon admired the brilliant workmanship before slipping one into his pocket. He ignored Saphira's radiating disapproval. Instinct told him he would need it.

The further Eragon walked, the more repulsed and revulsion mixed with admiration he felt. There were so many tables that at last, he could no longer take it. He shook his head to clear it of the many images of sharps blades and dangerous, unmentionable weapons. Just before he turned to go back to the stairs, he saw several rows of catapults and ballistas. He wondered why magicians as powerful as the elves, and as peaceful a race as theirs would need so many weapons. There were enough weapons here to take down a castle without magic. In fact, there were enough weapons here to subdue the whole of Alagaesia... He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and went to the next level.

The next level was far less worrisome. It was a circular room, fitted with mirrors on one side of it. The room was filled with punching bags, a climbing wall that went past the ceiling with about three feet of space between it, a round circular cage that spun on its wheels, and other such objects. _The Queen said that when the times were peaceful, the Riders often used these to keep up their reflexes and muscles. You should try it sometimes. _There was a smirk in Saphira's thoughts. Eragon rolled his eyes and continued up.

The next room was filled wall to wall with cubbyholes filled with books. They seemed to be arranged by author, topic and size. Only the elves would have had such patience to arrange these thousands of books, and then to not even let one speck of dust touch them. Eragon idly wondered who it was that came in and cleaned the books, work-out equipment and weapons every day. He went on.

The next level was entirely empty except for a huge glass wall on one side, allowing Eragon to look out of it. He looked out and caught his breath. He didn't realize he was so high already. Ellesméra stretched out languidly before him. He turned away, and noticed the climbing wall from the second floor had continued through a rectangular hole in the floor. It ended a few feet above his head, before it reached the next floor. He decided to try and climb it another day. Eragon used the stairs to get to the next floor.

He emerged into the top floor of the huge tree, face to face with Saphira. He patted her on the snout softly then wandered around the spacious interior, which was big enough for Saphira and several accommodations for Eragon. She hummed deep in her throat behind him. The ceiling seemed to stretch on forever before spiraling and closing up in a point. There was an entrance identical to the one on the first floor. He walked up to the very edge of it and almost fell out. The winds were slightly stronger than he expected, and they buffeted him. He stepped back. He looked and Saphira and asked, _What happens if it rains? _

Saphira stood up to her full height, unencumbered by a ceiling and, with her tail, gently caught a large hook hanging out of the corner of a hole. She pulled on it, and a large canvas flap tautly followed behind it. She pulled it down until it was low enough for Eragon to hold. _Use your strength, little one, _Saphira wisely advised. Eragon rolled his eyes and grabbed onto the hook. Had not Saphira prepared him to use magic, he would have followed the canvas back into the corner of the hole. It was large and heavy. With a little bit of a struggle, he managed to secure the hook with another hook at the opposite corner where it came from. The canvas, which, Eragon realized was actually hard rubber, held fast, curving in slightly where the winds hit it. The room immediately became slightly warmer. Eragon left it where it was and went on.

Where the stairs came in was a large empty space, soft but firm, obviously for the dragon to sleep on. The other part of the room had a normal bunk for a human with a bedside table, a writing table stocked with quills and parchment, and a small closet. There was also a wooden door, which Eragon discovered led to a washroom with an ivory basin and tub. He went back out of it. It was getting dark, so he lit the lamp that was on the bedside table. The warm glow of the lamp caused soft shadows to jump around the large area, making it feel much more like a place where he could actually sleep in.

_Eragon. You should get some rest. Tomorrow, Islanzadí will send someone for us. She says we're to meet Oromis tomorrow. _Eragon felt his heart catch at the thought of meeting another Rider. He quickly bathed and fell into bed, falling into his elven dreams yet again. But they were different, tonight. They were more violent, and bloody.

* * *

_The feeling of falling, running through dimly lit streets, past shadows haunting the small spaces between houses. An elf, terror in his eyes, the steel smell of fear on his breath. The blood, the muffled shouts for help. The unwillingness in his eyes to give up, the cracking of bones, the scurrying feet of a few nearby elves. He felt powerful, bigger and stronger than all of them put together. No more would he be underestimated. Tonight, he ruled the night. _

_And so he did. One by one, the elves were violently, quietly, brutally murdered. Black eyes, blue eyes, brown eyes, no eyes; it was all the same to him. They died at his hands, unable to protect themselves. Then at the height of his glory, when he had raised his head to the heavens, when blood was dripping down his hands, when he felt more magic than ever before rushing through his veins, one elf turned the corner and appeared in front of him. Even in his __daze__ of power, he could see she was beautiful. Her green eyes shone with tears, her black hair glistened. In the back of his mind, he thought, 'Arya Dröttningu.' _

_And then he was gone._

_

* * *

_

Eragon thought he was still trapped in that terrible nightmare, perhaps fighting the cruel killer. He thrashed around on his bed, getting entangled with his blanket, yelling. Then he realized he was awake, and Saphira was scrutinizing him closer. As he gasped for breath, his heart pounded hard against his ribcage. His sweat was cold on his skin, the room was dark, the candle almost burnt to the end. Shadows danced on the walls in time with the flickering flame. Slowly, as Eragon calmed down, he leaned back against his bed. He brought his hand up to his face to wipe his sweat off when he froze.

His hands were completely covered in blood.

His heart seemed to stop for a second, then restart at treble the speed. _Eragon? What just happened? _Saphira's conscious was confused, and she sounded afraid.

_I... I don't know, Saphira. I just... I had a dream, but I... _Eragon tried to swallow, but couldn't get past the lump in his throat. There was something cold and hard and dry stuck there, blocking his airflow and his thoughts. His mind whirled and his bones ached.

Saphira's mind melted into his, then recoiled. She hissed. _You didn't have a dream! _She snarled. _I just saw you come in here and go back to bed. You wouldn't answer me, and I had no idea what you were doing. Then you suddenly leapt up and then I realized you were covered in blood. Eragon, what have you done? _Saphira was agitated, her tail swinging around the room, breaking a lamp and tearing her sheets.

Eragon still had no answer. He gaped at Saphira and stared at her. Then he rasped, "Saphira, I think I killed a lot of elves. I don't know what happened." Without warning, Saphira calmed down. _Okay. Okay. Were you seen? _Eragon nodded slowly, remembering sad green eyes. _Who did you kill? _Saphira pressed. Eragon merely shrugged. The faces were blur and nameless. _We have to get out of here, _Saphira decided. _We have to get out of here _now. _They will never forgive you for this. _

Eragon looked blankly at Saphira. His mind raced, but his thoughts didn't make sense. He knew that if he just went back to sleep, everything would be fine. Saphira's teeth were snapping now, right in front of his face, but he didn't react. Her razor sharp tooth barely missed his eye, but Eragon just sat there on his bed, staring down Saphira's throat. He couldn't hear anything; all he could do was stare. Then someone slapped him in the face.

The world rushed back. He could hear his heartbeat, fast but steady, his breath, excited and fast, and Saphira, growling in annoyance. He could see past the two round pinpoints of light he had been focusing on. Then he looked up from his bloody bed sheets and saw Arya standing right beside his bed and staring right down at him, her eyes hard and dangerous.

"You have to get out of here." She said flatly. "Soon, the Queen herself will enter with her most powerful guards and interrogate you. Nobody will know who slaughtered all those elves but everybody will being questioned. You will be the prime suspect, but no one will dare come to you so soon. When the whole of Ellesméra is roused, they will come, and even you will not stand a chance. No one is yet awake, but the sun is rising, and the bodies will be discovered. Get up and run now, before it is too late. Get. Up!" Arya almost screamed the last two words when Eragon didn't move.

Eragon's reaction was immediate. He scrambled off his bed hastily and stood face to face with Arya. He looked down at himself and with mild surprise realized that he was dressed in a long sleeved black tunic and black pants. He realized with growing horror that they were splattered with a dark, sticky and wet substance. With a shaking finger, he wiped some of it off. His finger came away red. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths. One word, soft and passionate, escaped his lips. "Dammit."

He looked into Arya's eyes, which burned with what appeared to be anger, but there was something more behind it. A dark emotion that she didn't want him to see. She looked so sad and so alone. By saving him, she was throwing away her own life. If she was caught, she would most definitely be killed, Queen's daughter or not. Eragon didn't have the right words to say to her. After all, what could he possibly say? He had killed her friends, her innocent friends. He reached up to touch her face, to brush away the tear that trickled down from her left eye and down her cheek, but decided against it. He didn't deserve to touch her. He turned away and started grabbing items.

Saphira unhooked the canvas and let it flap back up to the top of the entrance. She stood stock-still at the entrance and stuck her head out, letting the winds hit her hard. She was preparing for flight, and nothing could hurt her.

Inside, Eragon gathered most of the necessities, and some food that was in a small larder. He strapped the full saddle bags securely around Saphira's neck and quickly climbed up and settled himself. He turned back to look at the room that had provided sanctuary for one night. He didn't know what happened, but his best guess was that his dark side had taken over, if just for the night. He felt uncomfortable tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. Help from the elves, meeting with Oromis, Arya... Nothing was to be.

Arya.

She stood in the exact same position as before. She faced the bed with her hands at her sides. Her shoulders hunched slightly. Saphira, at the entrance, blocked some of the sunlight coming in to room. The shadows danced on Arya's face, highlighting her tear-stained cheekbones. Her head was bowed, and Eragon couldn't see her eyes. She didn't turn around.

Eragon hesitated, and then called out Arya's name softly. Slowly and mechanically, Arya turned her head. She looked up slowly and pierced both Eragon and Saphira through their hearts with one look. That look told them everything and nothing. "Come with us.' Eragon said desperately. A light sparked in Arya's eyes, but she shook her head, the same detachment settling around her again.

Eragon heard a distant shout, and the sound of footsteps, also far off. Urgently, Eragon said, "Arya, you can't stay here. They will kill you. Come with me. Please." He stayed on Saphira's back, resisting the urge to just pick her up and run. He gave her space.

Arya's body shook slightly, and then she took a small step hesitantly towards Eragon. Eragon held his hand out to her. With that, everything in her seemed to explode outwards. In less than a second, she had flown towards Eragon. She grabbed his proffered hand and lightly leapt up Saphira. "Let's go." Her voice was husky, but firm.

Eragon nodded. Saphira back slightly into the room before taking a flying leap into the air. Her wings opened and spread powerfully. They quickly gained height. She angled upwards and forwards, keen to get out and avoid Gilderien. He was right. Eragon's fist clenched. Islanzadí should never have let him in. Gilderien was right. He really was evil.

Just as they were passing over the passing over the border than divided Ellesméra and Du Weldenvarden, Eragon felt a buzzing in his ears and a sense that they were slowing down. _Eragon! Something's pulling me back! _Saphira cried in his mind. Eragon cursed and felt his mind connect with another. The presence was ancient and angry. Gilderien. _Curse you, Rider. I should never have let you in. _He began a quick chant, and Eragon felt Saphira straining to go forward, but instead she slowly and steadily sank.

Yelling, Eragon shook him off and sent a huge blast of power towards the presence. A soft cry rang out in his ears and Saphira shot forward, the pressure on her gone. In a minute, they were far enough that Eragon completely couldn't sense the old elf. He sighed heavily and leaned forward, then stopped when Arya tightened her hold around his waist, pressing her face into his back. He tensed.

So many things had happened in the span of one day. He had met a Queen, saved her daughter, and killed many of her friends. He had fled the only place Brom thought safe enough for him and now had the Queen's daughter behind him, after she had risked all to save his life.

So many things had happened, but what would stick in his mind the longest, the memory that he would hold forever, was the way Arya sobbed into his back while clinging onto him like he was her last hope. It would be the way her tears soaked his blood stained tunic, the way her body shivered and shook that would stay in his mind forever.

* * *

A/N

I know it's been ages, but hopefully the chapters will come up faster after this. As usual, a huge thanks to everyone who review, added me to story alert, favourite story etc etc. You guys/gals all rock.

So many questions, so little time… All questions will be answered in time though; just keep reading!

Reviews are way better than Arya crying into your shoulder.. Hmm..


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Inheritance Cycle nor am I Christopher Paolini. The only things I own are my ideas, my clothes and my ass, so don't burn it._

**Chapter 13**

Saphira didn't stop flying until they were well beyond the borders of Ellesméra, which didn't take too long. She flew hard and fast, and she didn't stop until she had passed over the forest and been flying over the desert for over two hours. Eragon looked at their surroundings and depressingly thought, _Well, it's back to picking sand out of my eyes every morning. _Saphira sneezed in agreement.

It was the Hadarac Desert yet again. Seated on top of Saphira, as large as she was, Eragon couldn't see an end to the desert. No matter which way they turned, everything was brown, dry sand. Eragon sighed, then sneezed, and then proceeded to curse.

He nimbly leapt off Saphira's back, and rolled when he landed to cushion his landing. Strangely, Saphira seemed a lot taller and bigger. Eragon turned to scrutinize her. The sun, though not quite in the middle of the sky, was hot and dry. Dusty though her scales were, they still glowed faintly through the dust with a deep, dark midnight blue. Eragon frowned and stepped closer to Saphira. She crouched down, understanding what he wanted to do.

Eragon rubbed the dust away from one of her hard scales, but the scale was as dark a blue as before. He scowled and kicked at the sand. It would seem that Saphira had not only grown more powerful but also darker, so to speak. He would have wagered that had he been able to see his own eyes, they would be just as dark as her scales. He could feel power bubbling just below the surface of his mind, power he hadn't had the day before.

Killing those elves had been an act of depravity done by his evil, murderous side, but his evil, murderous side wasn't a fool. By killing them, Eragon had grown much stronger, both physically and mentally. He could feel the strength emanating from his every pore. Had a normal human stood next to him, Eragon would have towered over the man. Even Horst would have seemed fairly average compared to Eragon's current physique. The amount of magic stored in him now was so much that Eragon almost couldn't control it. If he lost control of his magic or his emotions, everybody within a league would probably be able to feel it.

He stared out at the empty horizon. He was powerful now, far more powerful than any regular Rider would have, _could _have been. But was it worth it? Was it right to kill so many, just to achieve his own powers? But he needed the magic. If he wanted the slightest chance to kill Galbatorix, he had to have the magic and the power. It was necessary. But still, he wondered, had killing elves really been the only solution?

_Eragon, you must stop. _Saphira sounded tired and frustrated. _Wondering about what you've done is not going to help anyone. You need to focus on what you need to do. _

_And what do I need to do, Saphira? _Eragon snapped, _I've killed I don't even know how many elves, and now I have power beyond what I ever imagined. And for what purpose? That I can be hated by all of the elves, the only race that might have accepted me as one of their own? Look at me, Saphira! I don't even look human anymore! _And it was true. He was tall, taller than a human should be, but that wasn't all. His eyes, a dark shade of blue, glittered fiercely with a dangerous, smouldering fire. He looked too powerful, too angry and just too inhuman to be human. He would never fit in with them. The humans, petty as they were, didn't tolerate differences. They would never accept someone as different as he was. And the dwarves had a long history of not trusting other races. The elves... Having killed so many of them, he doubted they would ever even speak to him again, except perhaps to kill him with a word.

Eragon stretched and gazed at Saphira. She was the only one who would stick with him, through thick and thin. And then, there was Arya. She was still seated on top of Saphira, looking at nothing. He didn't know why he'd brought her with him. She probably hated him, and any opportunity to kill him would undoubtedly be taken. _Then why did she save me?_ Eragon wondered. _Perhaps you should just _ask _her, Eragon. _Saphira sounded slightly sarcastic.

Eragon sighed again, then called out to Arya. She looked up blankly and turned to face Eragon. He climbed only Saphira's outstretched foot and reached a hand out to her. Arya cocked her head and hesitated. Eragon tensed, but then Arya took his hand. She must have been confused, or her guard was down, because when Eragon touched her bare hand, several raw emotions coursed through him. He felt anger, confusion, fear and something else, the strongest emotion, something he couldn't quite recognize. It made his blood run cold and hot, and his mind blurred. He quickly helped her off and let go.

Arya made no reaction. Her eyes were still fairly blank, and she didn't seem to want to do anything. Perhaps she hadn't noticed his accidental intrusion into her mind. Eragon scratched his head. He supposed he should help her out of her shock. Saphira said, _You do that, Eragon. __I'll go find some food for us. _Then she was off.

Eragon felt completely out of his depth. What would get her out of her trance? Should he try to provoke her? Scare her, perhaps? Maybe he should have hit her, but evil as he might have been, hitting a woman still wasn't high on his list of things to do. Talking, he decided, was probably the safest thing he could do. He quickly searched nearby and found a couple of rocks that he placed together to give them a place to lean against. Arya watched him the whole while, but her face was still inscrutable. When Eragon was satisfied, he gestured for her to sit. Thankfully, she did.

Eragon took a deep breath and sat down next to her. He leaned against the rocks and closed his eyes. The back of his eyelids turned red from the beating of the bright sun. He opened his mouth and spoke. "There was this boy, you see, who never really had a mother or a father. He thought they were dead, and really, they were, but not as he thought. But that's a different story. The boy was raised by his aunt and uncle, and he had a cousin, whom he treated like a brother. The moment the boy could hold a plough without falling over, nay, when he could just barely grip the plough properly, he was given chores and started to help out on the farm. They were poor, you understand, and money was harder to come by every year. The aunt died, but the three of them continued working. They were pretty dysfunctional, but they were a close family. The boy enjoyed the work. It was hard but honest, and he loved seeing things grow."

"Then one day, before winter could really set in, this boy went hunting. His family had no food or money, and they needed food for the winter. He took his bow and his pack, and off he was to hunt for food. He tracked this deer just right, and when he was about to kill it and go home with a prize, the clearing the deer was in just exploded!'

Eragon opened his eyes and looked at Arya, but she had turned her gaze elsewhere. He continued. "When the smoke cleared, there was this shiny blue rock in the middle of the clearing. The deer had run off, and the boy was frustrated. He was also suspicious, because the smoke smelled of magic and danger. But because he was angry and hungry, he went over to the rock and picked it up. It was heavier than it looked, but he took it and put it into his pack anyway.

"Winter was starting to set in, so the boy had to return home without any meat. The rock looked pretty valuable, so they kept it for a while, hoping to be able to sell it, but nobody would buy it. And as valuable as the rock seemed to be, it couldn't be eaten, and eventually the rock went to the back of everybody's mind. There were more important things to do, like harvesting all the crops.'

Saphira landed with a soft thud behind Eragon. A faint smell of blood permeated the air, but Eragon ignored it. "Then one night, the rock cracked. It wasn't a rock, it was an egg. Some creature crawled out of it, and the boy recognized it as a dragon. He had heard enough stories about them. The boy was afraid. He knew the potential a dragon had, and he knew that with it, he could save his family. Alternately, having the dragon could get them all killed. But the dragon, even newly hatched, was so sentient a creature that the boy couldn't allow it to be killed. That would have been an act of depravity. So the boy let it live. He built a home in the forest for the dragon. He brought it food. He spoke to it. He stole books about dragons. He asked whoever he could about them.'

Eragon's voice dropped to a whisper. "He learned about the war, and the Forsworn. He learned that a Rider was seldom born from a lowly farmer like him. He had to have had something about him; either a long line of powerful magicians or just one magical parent. He learned about one member of the Forsworn in particular. Morzan. Galbatorix's right-hand man. He learned that Morzan had been rumoured to have had relations with some poor woman. He guessed that the woman had been Selena- his mother. He felt a strange kinship with this Morzan, this supposedly evil man he had never met.'

"True, Morzan committed acts that should never even be thought about, but he _was_ a brave man, and nobody could deny that. He had done what other men didn't even dare to dream about. He was powerful, but cruel. And he had a sword. A dangerous red sword, a miserable sword. So this ignorant boy went around with his head in the clouds. Somehow, he had got it into his head that Morzan was his father, as unlikely as it was. Perhaps it was hope that made it so. And then, with this thought, the boy returned to his dragon. His dragon was bluer than the sky itself, and strong now. It was strong enough to fly, and to carry his weight. He named it Saphira, on a whim. This young boy, not even a man yet, thought that he could do better. He wanted to be something other than a farmer. He wanted to be a true Rider.'

Eragon sounded bitter now. Saphira whined low in her throat, a soft sound, hinting at pain. "So this stupid boy, he thought he was so strong, so smart, he left the village. He stopped in the forest and was intercepted by this old storyteller. This old man was powerful, but the boy didn't know that. The boy didn't know anything. The old man revealed this sword; this beautiful red sword that the boy knew on sight was The Sword. Misery. Zar'roc. That stupid kid, that young fool, killed the old man with the sword. And what did the kid get for all that? For wanting glory and strength and power, all the kid managed to do was to dig himself deeper and deeper into a pile of shit."

Eragon stood suddenly. The world was red and blurry around the edges, but he stood and turned away. "The story hasn't ended, but I don't think the ending will be happy. Still, what matters was at the beginning. What matters is that all the boy wanted to do, at the very beginning, was to bring life, and not death. That's what matters. Remember that." His voice ended in a raspy whisper. He started walking off. "I'm going to get some firewood, if it's all the same to you."

Arya didn't respond, but merely stared at his back as he walked away. Saphira whined louder, but she didn't make a move either. They both watched him walk away. They knew he needed space.

* * *

When Eragon returned, there was the carcass of a deer lying in front of Arya. It had been skinned and gutted and what-have-you. Saphira was cleaning her claws. She turned to look at Eragon as he walked back to them, and her eyes were deep and mysterious. She kept her thoughts shielded from him. He felt mildly irritated by this, but shrugged it off. He felt a pair of piercing green eyes on him, but he ignored them.

Eragon dropped the pile of wood in his arms in front of the duo and stepped back. Saphira moved casually over and snorted a stream of fire out from her nose. The wood crackled and burst into flames. Eragon deftly constructed a skewer and in minutes the deer was roasting over the fire. He pulled ingredients out of the bags and carefully spread them over the deer. It was just past noon and the smell made Eragon's mouth water, despite the depressing situation he was in.

In front of him, the fire crackled, and on his back, the sun burned him. He felt himself sweating, but didn't bother to cast a cooling spell. It felt good to suffer, if only a little bit. What was a little bit of heat compared to the deaths he had caused? It wasn't as though he felt all that guilty anyway, did he? Eragon sighed and shook his head before turning the deer around on its spit. There was no point thinking so much about it. When all this was over, if ever, then he would reflect on everything he had done. Thinking about it now only caused him unnecessary bother. His conscience didn't matter at the moment.

And so Eragon turned to another thought. If he ignored the possible chase the elves were giving him, then he had to focus on what he was doing now. Going to the Varden didn't seem much of an option. Dealing with politics would only waste time, and honestly, he didn't know if he could trust them. The dwarves didn't trust Riders, and by killing Brom, Eragon probably hadn't won any favour from the humans. That left no one he could turn to.

He was tired. He was tired and hungry and angry. This wasn't even his fight. Why did the fate of Alagaesia have to rest on him? As he had told Arya, he was only a farmer. He had been born a farmer, even if his father had not been one. He had been raised a farmer. All he wanted was to be a farmer. Watching things grow had brought him joy. Life was tough, but he had had Garrow and Roran, Horst and Katrina and all of the others, even Sloan! He had had life, even if it was hard. Now everything he had been was ruined. He could never go back to being a farmer. Nothing his bloodied hands touched would grow again. This he knew.

Eragon had been sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, and now he leaned forward to rest his forehead on his legs. His head was dangerously close to the fire. Eragon took a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand to the point of pain. He let it out. He took another breath, and let everything out. He screamed. He screamed louder than he had ever screamed before. His ears were full of his own scream; he could hear nothing else. His throat hurt, but still he screamed till he had no breath left in his lungs. He screamed until all his emotions- his fear, his anger, his frustration, sadness and confusion were all out.

Arya flinched, but didn't back away. Saphira covered her ears with her wings. Her heightened sense of hearing was not a good thing in this situation. Neither of them tried to stop him. He needed this, and they knew it.

When Eragon finally stopped, he was panting. He kept his position and felt the rushing of the blood in his ear. He heard his heart pound. Eragon didn't move for a good five minutes. He couldn't feel anything. He liked that. For once, he didn't have to think. For once, he didn't have a million thoughts rushing through his head at the same time. For once, he felt like he had his simple farming life left. He closed his eyes and breathed steadily. He felt more at peace than he had since he had killed Brom; nay, since Saphira had hatched for him.

Still bent over, he heard Arya's soft, shallow breaths; Saphira's loud, guttural ones; the sound of something slithering over the rough sand; the crackling of the flames. He could smell his sweat; smoke; the spicy aroma of the deer; the dry, hot air. He breathed this dry, hot air in. Eragon sat up straight.

Arya and Saphira were deliberately looking anywhere other than at Eragon. They were waiting for him to speak, but they didn't want to push him. They expected the next thing he would say would be some deep, profound thing; something he had discovered about himself in the course of his screaming and thinking.

Eragon looked over at them, opened his mouth and said,"I'm hungry."

They whirled around to stare at him incredulously. He smiled innocently and started serving the deer on several pieces of bread. Arya's mouth had dropped open wide and she hadn't closed it by the time Eragon handed her a slightly stale piece of bread with a generous serving of roasted, spiced deer on top. Bemused, Arya took it and then started staring at the deer sandwich. She looked back up as Eragon cut himself a slice of deer. He then threw about half the deer at Saphira, who was just as confused as Arya. Saphira caught the deer in her teeth, but there it remained. She exchanged a wide-eyed look with Arya before facing Eragon again.

Eragon wrapped the rest of the deer up in oiled paper and then picked his own sandwich up. He was about to take a bite when he noticed the eyes of the other two. He lowered the sandwich and turned to look at them innocently. "You should eat it before it goes cold," was all he said.

At that, they couldn't hold it in any longer. Arya started out chuckling, before bursting out into full scale laughter. Her clear, sweet laugh rang over the desert, echoing slightly. She laughed till tears began prickling at the corner of her eyes. Saphira was no better. She started out with a rumbling in her stomach that sounded like an approaching thunderstorm, then she laughed as only a dragon could. If you weren't looking at her laugh, you would have thought a hundred knives were being sharpened in a waterfall. But while the knives were being sharpened, a hundred men would have been chuckling and humming to themselves. It was a magnificent sound.

At this, Eragon dropped his act, as well as the shield around his mind. He began to laugh as well. He didn't laugh as hard as the other two, but he could no longer deny the humour in the situation. When their laughter had finally died down, the desert was silent once more, but now the silence was almost peaceful. Eragon started on his sandwich, and it was delicious. Saphira munched on the deer, and the bones cracked against her hard teeth. Arya looked at her sandwich and then reluctantly took a bite, and then another.

They were silent as they ate, but it was a much more comfortable silence than before. When they had all finished, Eragon brushed his hands off and wiped them on his trousers. Nobody really cared, honestly. He cleared his throat and said clearly, "Well, to business."

The day had started early, and now it was past noon. Hanging high in the sky, the desert sun was blinding, the heat scalding. The fire in front of them was crackling and still going strong. The heat from there was, if possible, even hotter. None of these discomforts mattered. The three of them were tense and alert. In their minds, there was no heat, no sweat. There was only Galbatorix, and what they should do about him. And by the time the sun had fallen behind a cloud, they had talked and planned and strategized for nearly an hour. It was enough. They were ready.  


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